


Scratchy Sky

by Cheer_The_Underdog_On



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Bodyguard Mako, Forced Prostitution, Gore, M/M, Mental Health Issues, PTSD Junkrat, Science Fiction, Slavery, Slow Burn, Smut, plot heavy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:59:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 28,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheer_The_Underdog_On/pseuds/Cheer_The_Underdog_On
Summary: They were abandoned by Earth, so Junkrat is going to make them pay after he gets of Delta #12. Roadhog has put Mako long behind. He didn't come to this D list world just to be some random brat's bodyguard. Maybe they'll find out their goals are more similar than they thought, after all, they both are headed back to the stars.





	1. Welcome to Sandland

Jamison Fawkes had never known a life without two suns. No, those giant gaseous balls overhead hadn’t let him rest for a moment since he had been shat out onto the surface of Delta #12, a D class planet where terraforming had long been since abandoned. But even ‘planet’ might be too much of a lie for this moon that orbited a giant mass of stone. Kicking a rock into the leg of what long ago might have been an oil rig, Jamie looked up at the scratchy sky and stretched out his good arm. The moon had been set up as a mining colony for the mass they orbited long ago. Said mass provided them with an hour of night every eight hours when it interrupted the moon’s site line from the suns for that brief period of time. Everything about Delta #12, slang named Oz by the residents, was a destitute hell. Right now, he was trying to figure out how many bits it would take to escape this place. The stars were almost within reach, the first sun’s light illuminated his hand as the second sun began to glimmer on the horizon.

Jamison Fawkes, son of a son of a son of a miner, had never even known his Earth name handed down to him by the National Registry of off World Births. He had always been known, by himself and others, as Junk Rat. If his ma had been an upstanding citizen with the law of the terraform community on Oz, she would have had him genetically chipped, but alas, she was more worried about extra rations and some water probably. It’s not like he knew that much about her, or blamed her for handing him off to a scrap keeper for some bits. Babies were something of a luxury for the junkers of this planet, and he was probably better off being raised by a gang than a woman who couldn’t even afford to feed herself.

Scratching at the brandings on his arm, he sniffled as he skittered after a lizard to catch himself some dinner. He couldn’t go too far from his base or risk getting caught. He’d been hanging out in the stone outcroppings near the original mining bot factory. When supplies had dried up as far as parts went on Earth, the terraformers of Oz had gotten fucked. They’d already formed too big of a population for Earth to take them back or defer them to another colony, so instead the workers of the small Oz colony devolved into might makes right. Junk Rat didn’t have a lot of might, so he was rarely right. Slurping up the twitching tail of the scaly thing in his mouth, he looked out across the desert at the cloud on the edge of his vision. Too small to be a dust storm, or a convoy. Had to be someone travelin’, but there was no reason to come out here. Factory had been abandoned for decades. Unless they were after Junk Rat. Unless they were after his treasure.

Junk Rat’s treasure had been a twisting little breath of gossip for the last two years. Rumor was, there was a blond boy floatin’ around the edge of the ol’ omnic factory. Had found something deep inside, a treasure from the original colonists. Gossip indeed. A right legend. He skittered down to brace himself for an attack. His treasure wasn’t even that valuable. Just this ring he always wore, a few pieces of paper that he’d wanted a scrap keeper to read to him, a genetic chip. As soon as the scrap keeper had seen them, he’d said they were garbage, but his eyes. Eyes always gave junkers away, glistening with greed. The low rumble of a machine, what might have been a car if Junk Rat hadn’t known better, had come into ear shot and then stopped. If he’d been an idiot and let curiosity get the better of him, he’d have peeked his head out, but Junk Rat knew better, he weakly let fingers twitch on his mechanical arm as a reminder of what happened to Rats who got curious. 

He could hear heavy footsteps and even heavier breathing, which resulted in a light footed Rat sneaking around to another one of the rock out croppings to have a peek at his visitor. Just a glance- Just a- The only thing he saw was a black mask with the snout of a hog and a man tall enough to be a giant before a hook shot out at him to reel him in, but Rat let it catch on his bad arm, and let that arm go, hand gripping a grenade back to the stranger. That move must have been seen because the hook went slack as the hog man stepped back- into one of Rat’s traps- to avoid it. The bear trap snapped shut causing the man to grunt in pain before he dropped the hook and the grenade went off close enough to knock the man back onto his ass, shattering Rat’s arm. Drat, that had been his favorite arm, he loved Righty. Climbing fast, he pointed his grenade launcher at the other, standing a few feet back. A projectile weapon was useless where a man of this size could touch him. He wasn’t an idiot. He was a genius. A genius who was about to kill a giant who had fallen for one of his traps, “Who are you?” He asked, giggling nervously, wiping his drooling mouth on his shoulder, left hand trying not to quiver.

A voice. A deep voice. Deeper than the thunder that proceeded the sand storms answered, “Road Hog.” 

Another piece of gossip. Another tall tale that only fools went chasing after. The One Man Apocalypse. “Bullshit, rioght you are.” Junk Rat laughed, “Like Road Hog would fall for the old grenade in the prosthetic hand trick.” He cackled, “But al’right. Yer Road Hog. Who sent you?” 

The black glass eyes of the mask staring at him made Rat anxious. Made him shift nervously foot to foot, finally the voice emerged from the mask again, “Sandman.”

Junk Rat swallowed thickly, dust in his throat suddenly making him thirsty (like he wasn’t always thirsty), and he bit his lip. The brand over his brand. The man who’d bought him when he was a teenager. “Wants me dead or alive?”

“Alive.” Well that was slightly reassuring, but alive only came before they got something out of you, then dead. Road Hog’s leg had begun to drip sticky, dark red blood from where the trap had cut through his pants, over his boots, and Junk Rat bit his lip. That had to hurt.

“How much he payin’ you?”

Didn’t matter. Didn’t matter for a man like Road Hog, his loyalty wasn’t for sale. “More than you ever could.”

“More than your life is worth?” Rat asked, voice caustic. That was a deal Road Hog had to consider, “What about your life for mine n’…I hire you. Half me treasure to get me to Sidney.” He stated. That was a long ways off. Three gangslands away. That was a fair deal for sure, not that Junk Rat knew the value of his treasure. 

See in any normal situation, when a man tried to bargain with Road Hog, the man would just laugh. Not because it was funny, but because it was pathetic. It was hilarious to watch brave humans shrivel up before him, scared for their lives. It made him feel immense, untouchable; and that meant a lot for a man who would give anything to wipe away memories of what had been taken from him. No, Road Hog had never been out smarted before. Even if it was by chance. This wasn’t some bullet rain or something else, this was a kid who was dead ready to sacrifice his arm to win, and then if he didn’t get what he wanted, was prepared to just leave Road Hog to die. That was respectable. Then half of his treasure? Even if the kid seemed a bit loose in the skull, it’d be a change from the usual. For that, Road Hog laughed. A deep belly chuckle. This kid had some balls and some brains. Who knew? Maybe it’d help him in the long run for the reason that he was roaming Oz. 

Heavy breathing, a sigh, “Deal.” Junk Rat couldn’t see the man’s face, but the blonde had no choice. He wanted to believe him. He wanted to trust Road Hog. 

“Put’er ‘ere.” The thin man stuck out a boney hand and Road Hog reluctantly shook. Well, test one of being ripped limb from limb had worked, so Junk Rat was satisfied and worked to free the taller man. They were both inherently distrustful, and they both could respect that. You didn’t survive this life by being quick to follow. 

After some quick first aid, the blond began to prattle on about his arm and how he’d need a replacement. That was obvious to the now proclaimed body guard. The kid would be useless in combat without two working hands. Rat was fast to clear out his hidey hole and tritter trotter over to the dune bike with a backpack worth of stuff. The large tires looked like paddles to help the machine swim through the pyramids of sand. It was a smart design, must have been a hell of an expensive commission unless Road Hog had built it himself. Getting a closer look at the man, Rat realized there was no room on the seat. As he opened his mouth, Hog unpacked a cube from one of his satchels and clicked a button. Throwing it down, the little machine whirled and began to unpack itself brick by shiny brick into a side car that magnetically clicked onto the bike, “What the-“

Road Hog smirked behind the mask looking at Junk Rat’s jaw dropped face. The kid became very skeptical very fast, “That’s off world technology. That’s not from Oz,” Amber eyes narrowed at the other, “Explain. Now.”

The large man rested a hand on his gut as he climbed into the seat of the bike with a grunt and settled in. “It’s from off world.”

Well duh, obviously, he had just said that; Junk Rat rolled his eyes. “How did you get it!? Look, I’m your boss. You gotta tell me!” He’d been trying to get a hold of things from off world for years and had maybe once or twice seen something from another planet. To that, there was no answer, and Junk Rat eventually conceded and climbed into the side car. Conceded before apparently trying to annoy Road Hog into answering with his incessant questions. Eventually, he just gave the kid one long look through the mask, and the brat shut up. Rat didn’t need his bodyguard regretting his decision. 

It was going to be a very long ride back to civilization. 

It had probably been hours, but sometimes Junk Rat remembered things that he’d thought he’d forgotten when he drifted off, and it isn’t for a couple hours after he’d tired out of pestering Road Hog that he spoke again, “Hey…Stop here.” He requested, and the tone makes Road Hog comply: it isn’t the Rat’s normal voice fitted with giggling. Rat’s boots hit the dirt and he looked around as if he’s looking for something in the dunes. Something. Something. His eyes are seeing something past the dunes, Oz, Delta #12, the suns. Hog doesn’t know whether or not he finds it, but Rat… Giggling, he started to giggle. Laughing. Cackling. He was losing it. Absolutely losing it, and it wasn’t long before he was on the ground in the hot sun sucking in lungs full of air. Hog lifts him up with one mighty hand to put him back in the side car and gave him some water. Probably over heated. Heat stroke. 

After the laughter stopped, Hog looked at the kid as if to ask him, “What the fuck was that?” 

This time Rat’s the one without words for a few minutes. “I got a plan.” A plan, he said, “Came to me from the dunes, Sandman, rioght? Sandman wants me dead. Should pay Sandman a visit. Me explosives and your might? We can take all of Sandman’s gang’s rations, petrol. Everything. Everything we want. Split it, just like the treasure, 50/50. I need some more bits to get me off world. Don’t know how much it’s going to cost, but there’s no commercial transport here, so I’m gonna have to sling it with a shipping line. Probably expensive. I heard they hate extras on board. Sometimes they just gut yeah as soon as you’re on and paid.” He was mostly musing to himself at this point, giggling again before taking a sip of water, “But Hoggie-“

“Hog.” The man corrected immediately in a gruff voice.

“Hog,” Rat begins again, “That’s why I need to get to Sydney.”

“Other ways off world.”

“Can’t trust them. All the locals round here aren’t going where I need to go anyways.” Rat puffed curtly.

Hog chuckled softly at the attitude. Had to hand it to the blond, he was theatrical. “Sure you don’t want to just stick it to Sandman for personal reasons?”

“Aw, alright,” The blond straightened up, “Yeah, you caught me, but the other reasons good too, mate. Can’t blame me for wanting to get him back for-“His gapping fish mouth closed suddenly as if he’d said too much, “Anyways, we’ll get him back.” He giggled, “And explode that shit hole of a bar that drongo loves so much. Boom!” He animated with his one arm. Suddenly realizing again, he’d lost his prosthetic, “Shite, need to get me another arm too. Need to pick that up when we get to Sandland.” The gangland would be the only place he’d be able to find a technician or medic. “He wanted me alive, so…” God, he’d have to have faith in Road Hog. An enforcer. A glorified bounty hunter. “We have a little bit of time before we have to go there. You’ll just have to pretend you’ve captured me. Plus, your leg might want to see a medic too. Just in case.” Shite, though! Where were they going to get the bits for that? Oh wait. Pawing around in his duffle bag, he pulled out something he’d looted recently off one of the bounty hunters not as fortunate as Road Hog. “We’ll have to hit a scrap shop, too.” He sighed, “God, Hoggie-“

“Hog.” The man grunted again.

“Rioght, Hog, it’s been so long since I’ve been back around other Junkers.” He shrugged his shoulders, “They uh- Never really liked me.” The blond laughed nervously, “Big surprise there, right? The local nutter, never really had any mates of me own. Well, I had a couple there towards the end, but…would have sold me out in a minute. They did, actually. They were the first ones after me treasure.” The closer they were to Sandland, the more his brand started to itch, “So um…just a heads up, Hoggie-“ God, Hog groaned, this was going to stick wasn’t it? “I’m technically a slave in Sandland? Uh, he owns me, or, I guess, I’m part of the gang, but…not a tattooed member. I’m a branded member. Low on the totem pole. Real low.” His teeth chattered a bit, “Now I remember why I don’t go around other Junkers. You know, being a slave n’ all.” He laughed, slapping his knee. His sensitive Junk Rat disposition couldn’t handle it. That and he was a deserter which in Sandland and most ganglands was punishable by death.

Hog looked at the kid briefly. Seemed like the kid had had a rough life, but almost everyone on this planet had, so no surprise there. He put a large hand on the head of his charge and ignored Junk Rats squeak of terror that his head was about to be ripped off for talking too much as the large man patted him twice. The motion was reassuring for the blond. Caused even his pounding tiny Rat heart to steady for moment. Like this plan wasn’t utter shite. Like maybe Road Hog actually had his back. He didn’t even giggle anxiously when they passed the large sign into town with bodies of thieves, murderers, and others on display when they drove by. (Yikes, that made his throat tight, haha!) The bones had long been picked clean by bugs and vultures; they’d been bleached by the sun as well. Normal enough in Oz, Hog supposed. Didn’t expect anything more. Didn’t expect anything less. Justice out on planets past B class was always hazy. As so, the large man gazed tiredly at the little row of shanty shack houses and piss poor excuses for buildings that the wind had mercifully spared, but the time hadn’t. It seemed to hit them both at the same time:

Welcome to Sandland.


	2. A Loyal Employee

Licking a sharp canine, Rat let his tongue loll out as he followed behind Hog, waist tied on a leash that the other had held tight in his immense hand. He was tied real tight, kind of nice actually if it wasn’t for hostage reasons. He padded after the other to the medic who gave Road Hog a long look before resigning herself to inspect his leg, “Oi, and this one?” She asked after applying some rubbing alcohol and gauze to the thick calf, “Back again, Junk Rat? Sandman’s gonna hang you up to dry this time. No point in doing anything for ‘im.” The brunette woman had half her head shaved where the skull tattoo was made visible, but reluctantly began digging around for some prosthetic parts after Hog insisted. The thin blond ended up being awarded an old manikin hand based prosthetic. It would work well enough. He could move the thumb, and had…a hand sort of. He’d be able to hold things. 

Have to ditch this and get a nicer one as soon as he could, but Road Hog paid her the last of their coin. Not that it would matter, they’d have more soon if everything went well. Road Hog’s heavy weight caused the wood floors of the bar to creak beneath him as they entered the musty low lit room. There was a pool table of some sort, a few gang members were using it. “Delivery.” Road Hog grunted. Once of them scurried off to grab their boss from somewhere from the bowels of this shack. The whole place was a wreck. Dusty jukebox in the corner. A lone moth flitted around a light bulb that looked like it was just about to quit.

Shuddering, Rat knew these rooms too well. He knew the sickly syrupy voice of the ‘businessman’ that stood in front of them too well. “Hello, Road Hog. Very impressive.” Sandman raised a calloused hand to yank Junk Rat’s jaw so that the taller man looked him in his soulless eyes, “First one to ever catch him in one piece. Surprised you didn’t lose an arm or a leg to him.” Road Hog’s heavy breathing caught in a grunt to get the other to move past the gaudy introduction. “Let’s go upstairs to discuss payment like you wanted. We’ll leave the Rat down here to have some fun with my associates.”

Junk Rat laughed nervously as he watched the Hog’s mask glance at him, “No delivery til payment.” He yanked the rope, dragging the blond along with him behind the gang leader. The guy was dressed way too nice for how poor everyone else was, slimy bastard. Men like him pissed Hog off. 

“A shrewd businessman, I can respect that.” A hint of disgust in Sandman’s voice. He wanted to get this ‘extraction’ started. Torture took a while. He wanted to be the first one to that treasure. Regardless, he led them down the hallway to his office. Two girls wearing nothing but collars around their necks took the hint to leave when he waved them off. A quick glance at their arm and Road Hog spotted a familiar red raised mark. As if on que, Rat scratched his. Thing was going to start bleeding if he didn’t quit it, Hog thought, sighing as he took a seat in a wood chair that bent under his weight. 

“Road Hog,” Sandman licked a pen, beginning to write, “This is…payment for delivery. Names of three women under my employment who have since been sold back to Doll Maker that fit the description that you asked for. The other two are still here, would you like to see them?” 

Hog raised two fingers and made a beckoning motion to signal for them to come in, “Toaster, Juicesqueeze, get in here.” The two girls from earlier entered again. Junk Rat pursed his lips. They both had similar history as him, a brand over a brand. His face twisted up in disgust as Hog actually looked them over. Opened their mouths to inspect their teeth. Looked at their nails, eyes, long blonde hair. They were both skinny like Junk Rat, but hadn’t suffered from quite the same neglect. Both of them had nice pale skin from staying inside on their whoring beds, not the scars that littered the thin man’s body. “Any of these girls the one you’re looking for?” Sandman asked as the two women shifted nervously, nipples erect from the exposure. 

“No.” The answer was short, blunt. He was not happy, and his anger was turning on Sandman. Before the weasel could get a word in, the monster’s machete found its way into his side, cleaving the small man in half. Blood sprayed over the walls and Junk Rat was baptized in red. The girls screamed as organs splattered like a wet painting at their feet. They weren’t watching Junk Rat, their savior being reborn. Road Hog cut his ropes, and the Rat grabbed his Grenade launcher from Road Hog’s bag. Of course, screaming women brought the sounds of other gang members barreling down the hall. A bad decision that benefitted the two Junkers immensely. He popped pins on two grenades and tossed one down the hall, one up the stairs. Let a cherry bomb fill the room with smoke.

It didn’t take long for any survivors to have fled as the two stood triumphant, Junk Rat bathed in their glory. “Go room by room. Take anything valuable.” He ordered Hog as he flitted to the bar room to steal a few bottles of whatever toilet brew this was and then shoved the rest to the floor. Sparking the concoction, he watched the flame start to build in the room and laughed. Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. He loved watching the flames lap at the counter, the floors. The heat glowed against his skin. The smoke filled his lungs, and he sputtered and coughed as a large hand yanked him away from the fire. “Hey! You cunt! Put me down!” He pounded against Hog’s back, “Put me down, ya drongo! I can walk just fine!” He continued to scream until they were outside the bar.

Brat had been transfixed by the flames. Was just gazing into the heart of the destruction like it was the only peace he’d ever known. This was going to be a rougher job than Hog had though. Probably eighty percent of this job was going to be the kid from wrecking himself. Tossing the stick of a man to the ground, Road Hog tossed the loot in the side car when he felt a fist slap into his back.

Junk Rat had punched him, “You rioght piece of shit! You slave owning turd!” Another few punches that were going to be nothing but light bruises to the tower of a man. Turning, Road Hog looked down at the other where the blond sat kicking and screaming in his tantrum.

He didn’t have time for this. “Stop.” He ordered Junk Rat who ignored him and continued swinging into Hog’s gut. Tiring of that quickly, the silver haired man lifted the brat by his neck, drowning him in his steel fist, “Stop.” He hissed. Junk Rat’s eyes flickered in fear as he was placed gently in the side car. The kid rubbed his throat, gasped for air. 

Hog pretended not to hear him sob over the roar of the engine, until they reached a stopping point for the night. Beginning to unpack camp, Junk Rat still hadn’t moved, “You didn’t tell me you dealt in slaves.” His voice finally croaked out.

“I don’t.” Said Hog shortly.

“Then why…?” The blond finally crawled out of the side car and towards the fire Hog had started, “You like blonds? Is that it? You got me now. Finally got a piece of ass to rip apart with your huge cock.” He spat, “Normal people don’t do it for ya, you gotta have the ones that tremble and scream when you force it into them. Gotta-”

A hand covered his mouth and he froze in terror, “Stop.” Hog said gently, removing his mask for the night. He placed it on his stomach as he laid back against a rock for some shut eye. His laborious breathing eased a little finally.

Junk Rat’s amber eyes were fixated angrily on Hog’s face. As if he’d thought the man didn’t have one behind that facade. Hard to believe Hog was human when right now Junk Rat equated him to the devil himself. Hog chuckled a bit to himself, hadn’t been the first time someone had given him that look. Eventually the studious eyes began to annoy him. He opened his good eye, the one without the scar to look at the other, “Cut it out.”

“All you ever say to me is ‘Stop’.” The blond snapped, “Explain. Explain or you’re fired.” He said as if he really was in charge of the situation.

Considering his options, Road Hog decided to offer the kid some scraps to assuage his concerns, “As you can tell, I’m from off world.” Thank god since this place was a ripe piss whole, “Employed as a bounty hunter and was sent here to retrieve a young lady before-“That was enough, “This young lady, ‘bout your age, is enslaved for as far as I can tell. Sandman gave me my next lead. We’re going to go see Doll Maker. Buy her freedom.” Road Hog finished thoughtfully.

“What’s so special ‘bout ‘er?” Junk Rat asked, easing some, scuttling around in a blanket Hog had put out for him and curling up like a dog next to the fire, scratching himself. Kid…probably had fleas, Hog realized, disgusted a bit. Not like the Rat looked like he was an avid bather. 

Hog decided not to say why he needed to find the girl, but he did settle on, “I’ve been looking for her a long time…three years now.” He missed his home. He missed his family. His friends. Hell, the payoff was going to be immense. Enough for eight life times, but right now, in the silence of the night, he would give anything to be somewhere besides Delta #12.

Road Hog looked at his warm employer. Kid knew a lot about how the gangs worked. Knew a lot about the slave system as well. “Hey, you want a job?” Hog asked, shaking Junk Rat a bit to make sure he was awake.

“What’s this? Mutiny?” The blond man screeched drowsily, drool had already been dripping out of his mouth from dozing off, “Nuh-uh, I’m the boss. Ain’t flippin’ this on me.”

“You help me find that girl, and I’ll get you anywhere in the galaxy for free.” 

Junk Rat seemed to consider this, “I’m still the boss, though. You’re still me bodyguard, rioght?” His brows knotted up in exhausted confusion.

That seemed to be all that mattered to the kid, protection and being the boss. Hog nodded, “Yes, boss.”

Junk Rat clucked happily at that, “Then yeah, I’ll help yeh. Anything for a loyal employee.” He puffed, curling up again to sleep.

The next morning, they set out after refueling at the Sandland petrol station. A marker between Sandland and Shark’s Oasis. The mood since they’d set out had shifted from Junk Rat’s revengeful stewing to watchful concern. “Never uh-“Rat chattered nervously, “Never spent much time in the Oasis.” He muttered to himself, “They eat the meat. They got the shakes. They all eat the meat.”

Hog looked at the nervous madman in his side car, “What?” He revved the engine.

“Cook us up they will! Can’t stop too long! Sharks don’t like new fish in their waters! Passin’ through!” He spoke to no one, “But it’ll be okay, Hoggie, you’ll protect me. No one’s eating a rat today, right?” He laughed.

Hog thought the kid must be joking. Devolving into one of his dream states that he seemed to talk to himself in until Rat spoke, mind clear, eyes dead ahead as he spotted a dust cloud on the horizon, “Let’s just hope they had a good meal recently or pork’s on the menu.”

Oh.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plz leave comments I'm a slut for praise. And commentary.


	3. Amber

Junk Rat had never eaten human meat as far as he knew. There was probably a chance that some of it could have come past his lips at some point, but he never thought, “Hmmm, you know what sounds pretty tasty with these crickets? Some bloke’s arm.” There was just some level of humanity that even a wild junker like Rat kept in mind, and Road Hog was quickly realizing that maybe some of the little uncivilized things he’d hated at Sandland were habits he should have counted as a blessing. Outrunning a roaming pack of cannibals had not been on his daily to do list. He’d planned on cutting through Shark’s Oasis to save time. On his route from Doll Maker’s territory, some random people had told him to stray from the Oasis. “Yeah, there’s water there, mate.” He remembered them saying, “But they prefer to drink other stuff there.” 

And in concept, Road Hog understood cannibalism. There were groups that did it for the fear factor, for the control, the occultism. Nobody actually did it for food outside of desperation. “But they don’t eat it for those reasons, man eats a man for long enough n’ it ruins his brain, rots his mind.” Junk Rat is shouting into the wind, dropping grenades and manning a gun against their pursuers. “Watch for traps!” He screamed above the wind and Road Hog barely swerves in time to avoid the jagged metal that is triggered by them riding over a line of some sort. Junk Rat almost loses balance, but Hog’s hand shoots out to grab him by the belt. Yanked back into the side car, Junk Rat is swearing something awful until they drive past a fence made of femurs placed oddly in the flat desert. Baby dolls hang from the branches on the scarce trees by ropes around their necks. Busted dolls, dolls missing arms, missing legs, missing eyes. Doll Maker’s territory, the sharks won’t follow them here. “Hoggie,” Rat plopped back down now that the pack has stopped with precision on the fence line, watching their meal escape. “Have you ever been to Doll Maker’s factory? The city they all live in?” He attempted to fumble for more grenades to pack his gun, “If your lil Shiela is in there, we’re gonna have a ‘ell of a time getting’ her out.” He was drooling again but didn’t seem to notice, sniffled. “Not like Sandland, no, Doll Maker- She’s a different kind of woman. Don’t be fooled.” 

“I have safe passage granted to me by Sandman.” Hog mumbled through the mask in thought.

Rat seemed tired, splayed out in the side car, probably thirsty, “Won’t mean a thing. No, Sandman never has held power over her. Yeah, she supplies his girls, but it ain’t no partnership. Yeah, the sharks stop at her line. But how terrifying you got to be to make people with the shakes sane enough to stop at the line?” It was getting dark, a rare occurrence for Delta #12. “How many cycles since we last slept?” Rat asked him, looking up at the dusk greedily.

“Only one, Rat. You want to nap?” Road Hog grunted. Kid was wearing off on him. Working past his act. The world’s biggest illusion was that Road Hog was Road Hog, not Mako. Asking some kid if he wanted to nap- He was getting sweet on this guy. Needed to fight it, toughen up. It was just a job. Just a job. Needed to retrieve the girl. Needed to get off world. Junk Rat was just something to do in the meantime. “We need to keep moving.” He was this close to finishing the job. At least he hoped he was. He’d thought this last time when he was at Sandman’s the first time before heading out to retrieve Junk Rat.

Rat nodded, fiddled a bit, “Gonna need to enter Doll Maker’s factory like a good boy, we are. Hope she uh- She uh- Doesn’t remember me from last time.” He giggled.

“Last time?”

“Rioght, well, you don’t think I willingly went to a whore house, did you?” Junk Rat looked at him, “I was too ugly to be a whore already, but they didn’t think so. Sandman liked me, thought I was like one of them ‘orses that needed to be broken or somethin’.” He tugged at his hair in thought, “No, when I left Doll Maker’s…Well, let’s just best hope.” 

Entering the factory was relatively easy. In fact, all of Doll Maker’s territory operated under strict law. The floor was a market place for scrap and food. The upper rooms were the gang’s territory where they slept, had an established medic. It was its own little town. A monument of civilization in the raw savagery of man. Hog was impressed, mask hiding his pleased face that he might be able to actually deal with these people and retrieve the girl. He just needed to figure out how to deal with Doll Maker.

He had maybe took his eyes of Junk Rat for…a second. Just to glance at a cute piglet that was for sale. When he turned around, Junk Rat had disappeared. It wasn’t hard to look for a tall man in a crowd when you were three heads above everyone else, but the blond had vanished without sight or sound. Listening was his next option, but that anxious laughter wasn’t anywhere to be heard above the bustling marketplace. A small hand tugged on one of his large fingers. He hadn’t even noticed the small girl with the amount of focus he’d been investing in locating his companion, “Doll Maker will see you now.” 

The stairs were a hassle for the large man who followed behind the willowy child to one of the rooms up above. His mask help hide his concern, but not his heavy breathing from exerting himself. “’Urry up, Fatty!” The lil girl jeered at him. God, he would just- Never mind. It wasn’t the first time he’d been given crap about his gut, wouldn’t be the last. Entering the room behind the child who kept a smart twenty feet lead from him, his eyes opened wide behind the mask as he saw Rat strung up by his hands, leg truncated as they sawed through the bone. Gagged, Rat’s body thrashed against his restraints. 

“Ah, you must be Road Hog. Thank you for bringing our sweet Mouse back to us.” The woman in front of him was dark skinned, hair sleek and shiny with little pieces of dandelion colored fabric throughout it. She must have loved purple, because both her skirt and blouse were a deep violet against the yellows in her hair. Her prosthetic leg was painted a beautiful hue of lilac as well, “When Mouse left us, ‘He’” The word seemed sarcastically emphasized, “Left us a present. Just returning the gift.” With a thud, the leg dropped to the ground, splattering on the ground, and Hog had to resist an unprepared retch. “Now, I know you did away with Sandman, Road Hog. That’s fair. He was a smarmy bastard. Can’t blame yeh. Always a bit distasteful about him myself. I’ll accept Mouse as payment for the girls you’re looking for.” 

Calm. Calm. Calm. He passed her the list of names, “Not a man of a lot of words? Quite the contrast to Mouse here. Had to gag the bitch to keep the market from hearing.” She spat, “Take the kidney next. We owe the Oasis.” 

It looked like Rat had passed out, so a medic of some kind approached the tall man to shoot a syringe of something in his arm. Probably adrenaline. The blond immediately awoke screaming into the scarf. Passing the list to the little girl he’d followed in, he watched in slow motion as the girl pattered off to go fetch them. “That’s enough for right now, actually. Let’s just let Mouse soak in that one.” She laughed, “We have plenty of time. Medic.” She pointed to the stump, “Can’t have this cunt dying on me before we’re even.”

Road Hog would gut her, he decided, after slicing off both her ears and her nose. Maybe dig out an eye. He mulled all this over each second with Rat’s screams in the background as the inspiration to his destructive harmony. One by one the girls arrived, and he looked them over. Mind wavering in concentration. This is why he’d told himself not to get attached. Part of the reason he’d become a bodyguard and not a bounty hunter (before he took this job) was that he was a protector. That was what he was supposed to provide the girl back to Earth: protection. 

It was the fourth girl that made him pause. Brown eyes, blonde hair, tall, thin. Birth mark on her stretch marked thigh. Her earlobes and nose were similar enough that he could see the resemblance to her mum. “What’s your name?” He asked.

“Amber.” 

Pretty name considering a lot of the ones on this planet, “You chipped?” 

“No.” 

Turning to Doll Maker, he considered for a moment, “I’ll take her.”

“Good! Good! Well, we’ll need to cancel out her brand. We can tattoo her with your name if you’d like.” She smiled, business as usual. Not like there was a man being bandaged and cut down to a stump in the room. “Amber go collect your things, hunny. This nice man is your master now.”

Nodding, Amber pursed her lips and reluctantly did as she was told. She’d need to be detailed in later before they headed to Sydney. Now for Rat. Rat. Leading her out to the bike, he had a moment of Road Hog. He could just leave now. Take this girl and finish the job. But Junk Rat, Mako argued, had come into Doll Maker’s factory under the premise that Road Hog would protect him. He’d been kind. Shown the man some semblance of friendship. Maybe he was a lil crazy, but Mako felt responsible for him, “You gonna run?” He asked the blonde as she sat in the side car, “If I leave you here,” He grunted, “And go back for Rat, you gonna run?”

She answered petulantly, nursing her burned arm, “No.” 

“Good. Wait here.” He grabbed Rat’s duffle bag of explosives.

Okay, so here was the deal. Hog had like…no clue how any of this stuff worked, but he managed to set the hogs loose in the market, and that was enough of a distraction for Doll Maker’s guards that he could make it to the stairs. God these fucking stairs. He was wheezing as he finished climbing them. Asthma flaring up. He took one of the silver canisters and crushed it in his hand like he’d seen rat do at Sandland for a smoke screen and tossed it into Doll Maker’s room. And for that he received a nice gun shot in the arm, but ignoring that he charged in and cut Rat down. Another shot. Another shot. 

Doll Maker’s voice was a siren above the cacophony of chaos, “You think I’m going to let you get out of here alive?” She screeched, nails like a harpy as she dug into the fat of his back, “No one defies me!” She quickly realized this was having no effect on him and went after the brat in his arms, but a well-placed fist had her on the floor. Normally he would have left her to rescue the kid but…He approached her, stepped on her skull. Stepped. Pressed. Listened as the bone gave way and she was a smear on the metal floor. He removed her prosthetic leg. Rat would need it, even if it was a little short for the kid.

They left Doll Maker’s factory standing, but that was only because Rat wasn’t awake. He’d probably have been livid if he’d known. Exiting through main entrance, Road Hog took a huff out of the canister of gas connected to his mask. His bullet wounds healed. Breathing was clear for a few moments. Gently considering, he lowered the mask over Rat’s face and watched as the unconscious kid took a few soft inhales. Eyes opened weakly as blond lashes fluttered around almond colored eyes.

Rat laughed that familiar laugh, but soft, “Well Hoggie,” He murmured, “You’re quite the looker when you’re being me knight in shining armor.”

Chuckling a bit, he was glad that Rat at least seemed okay for the moment. Long enough to get them to safety. He slipped his mask back on and approached his bike. Setting Rat down in his surprisingly empty side car, he looked around. He did a quick double take and looked around again. She’d have to be close by if she’d grabbed that large sack of rations. It took him more than a minute before he gave up and let out a long exhausted sigh. God damn it, the girl was missing.

Of course the girl was missing.


	4. Julianna

She’d been smart to take the water, but god was it heavy. Her new brand ate against her arm underneath the bandages and disinfectant, and the bike she’d stolen had only had enough gas to get her a few miles away. Some scrap dealer had probably had been hoping on making some bits to trade for petrol at the market. 

Like hell, she grunted, like hell she was going to be that monster of a man’s personal breeder. She’d already had one baby. She wasn’t going through that again. Not that she’d even wanted the thing to begin with. Even if she had to crawl her way to Sydney, she would. Start a new life away from the ganglands. The charter would keep her safe. She was still young and beautiful. She could start her life over. 

But then there was the roar of the motor and a cloud of dust behind her and even if it took all that she had she would hide and fight. But he stopped twenty feet away from her, the man in his side car rambling drowsily about something that she couldn’t hear, “I’m not here to be your master.” The man with the pig mask said in a low voice. The kind that didn’t hide any of the power he had in that massive body. “I’m here to free you.”

“Fuck you, ya drongo!” She screamed picking up a rock and throwing it at the cycle. 

“Oi!” The blond in the side car sat up, “Fuck you! Hoggie spent a right amount of time trying to find you!”

God, he looked like a madman, smeared in his own blood. The one who’d had his leg cut off. He looked feverish. Delirious with pain. “Why?”

“I was sent to retrieve you. Earth family is looking for you. Lost legacy.”

“Legacy?” Rat whispered to him, “Wha’s tha’?” He was about to pass out again. God, Hog needed to get him out of the sun. His bandage was already soaked with dark red blood again.

“What family?” She spat, “Me mum abandoned me.”

“You’re in a trust. Loaded. But one of your family members is about to pass on Earth. Wants to keep it in the family. You’re the last relative he has even if distant.”

“What’s to make me believe you?” Amber huffed.

“Nothing, but wouldn’t this be a wild lie?” Rat cackled, “Hog,” He tugged on the man’s hand, “Get the water I’m thir’sy.”

Reluctantly, she approached them. Road Hog lifted his mask and pulled out another side car, completing the cycle. “You ride here.” He pointed, voice gruff. Grabbing the rations back. She must have dumped half of them because the bag was light. “Rat, water.” 

He held the canteen to his lips and the blond gulped it down, choked from swallowing to fast and spewed water before coughing and immediately going back to gulping down water. “Oh yeah,” Rat gasped, “Tha’s the good stuff.” 

Amber sat silently, watching the two, “Y’all queers or something?” She asked causing Mako to bristle and straighten.

“He’s my bodyguard.” Rat spat, “But why? You jealous?” He waggled his brows, slouched into the car, teetering on passing out again.

“Some bodyguard. You’re missing a leg, mate. You notice?” She jabbed.

Rat looked down, “Holy shit! You’re right!” He whispered, and with that, he was out again.

Great, Hog climbed onto the bike, now he had two of them to deal with. Gunning it across the flat planes, it took four solar cycles to get to Sydney. The suns above made everything seem to pass in a dream. He flitted in and out of an awake reality. He saw the same cactus probably seven times and each time it seemed to be more and more of a hallucination of the mind. Amber eventually took over driving for two hours so he could check on Rat, hold him to make sure he was still breathing. God, this kid had trusted him- No, had trusted Road Hog too much. By the time he arrived, Hog thought he might be insane. He was in an awake sleep as the guards read his chip. He reflexively found a medic, checked Rat in and gave Amber a long look as he settled into the hotel room he’d checked themselves into, “You promise not to run?”

“Yes.” She rolled her eyes.

Hog didn’t believe her and ended up handcuffing her to the bed frame with water and food in sight as he went to go shower. Removing his mask, he put on clean clothes and settled on the other mattress. He slept like he hadn’t slept in years. Slept as Mako because he didn’t need to be Road Hog, worried about attack by junkers or bandits that night. When he woke up, Amber was munching on some dried fruit. “Going to go check on Rat.” He muttered, getting up, putting on his mask again. He unlocked her and she reluctantly followed.

The leg was real bad. They’d ended up having to cut off more into the thigh to remove infection, and had sown it up. They’d started him on fluids and had finished a blood transfusion. Rat was unconscious on the table, and Road Hog just nodded as they asked if he could pay for it. “She doesn’t have a genetics chip also. You want us to chip them both?” A hospital attendant asked as he sat out in the hall with Amber.

Junk Rat would need a genetics chip to get off world, “Yes,” He grunted, “Chip them both.”

“It’ll be a few days for the tests to be run that you’d asked for, but that should be good. Mister Rat should be healed up more by then.” The nurse simply took a blood sample from Amber and disappeared.

“Oi, Pig.”

“Hog,” Road Hog corrected. What was with these blondes and misnaming him?

“I know your name, Pig.” Amber’s eyes narrowed, “Can’t do nothing for your partner now. Le’s go sleep at the hotel.”

When Junk Rat woke up a few days later, he immediately looked for Hog, “Oi, Hoggie,” He reached out, happy that the other was there, “Ain’t this place a bit too posh for me?” He teased, “Aint this place a bit much? Junker medics would have done just as well.”

Hog raised his face out of the book he’d been reading. Voice gruff, “Why didn’t you tell me, Rat?”

“Tell you whot, mate?” Junk Rat looked at him in adoration, “Told you everything, mate. Except about me treasure. But I can tell you where it is. Ya know, for helpin’ me.”

Mako seeped through, “I- I didn’ help you, Rat. Your leg is gone, mate.”

“Yeah, but…would be dead regardless. This is Sydney, rioght? Only cost me an arm and a leg to get here!” He laughed, “Can tell by how clean it is. Woulda’ had to spend the rest of me life out in tha’ desert. Coulda never made it through even Sandland on me own. Treasure is one of me bombs. The one painted with a sad face. Wadded up in there.” He whispered. “You can have the whole thing. Don’t even know what it is. Can’t read.” He laughed before mumbling, about to fall asleep again. “Hey Hog…where’s your girl…?”

“Amber’s in the hall.” He grunted.

“Was she your lucky Sheila?” Rat asked, eyes falling shut, “You goin’ home, Hoggie?”

When he’s asleep, Road Hog gets up with a sigh and slips out into the hallway. “She asleep?” Amber asked, “She gonna be okay?”

“He.” Road Hog corrects her, “Only gonna say it once. He.” 

“He,” Amber corrects herself, “Why didn’t she- He. He.” She started over again, “Tell you he got a puss.”

God people on this planet were crass, but it was to be expected, “Probably because we’ve only known each other a week.” He mumbled. Would have taken Rat a month to get to Sydney by walking by himself. “And he’s clearly spent his whole life trying to convince the world also he’s a man.” Now that he looked back, the hints had all been there. Getting up to go pee by himself far away from camp those few times. Doll Maker. The whoring house that hadn’t had any other male whores. The scars that were clear as day that looked like one long slice mark underneath Rat’s chest. He’d thought it’d been an old injury since it went all the way across along with the other burn marks and scars the kid had. He thought Mouse was just a derogatory joke on Rat (but he supposed if that was Junk Rat’s old name it was). “Doesn’t matter anyways.” He’d told Junk Rat he’d been looking for a woman, and of course Junk Rat wouldn’t rope himself in with that. Tall, he’d been told five foot ten, probably. Brat was a good six, two.

“Well, if I’m gonna be his body double-“She shuddered as she was grabbed by her shirt collar. 

“You’re not. You’re Julianna Fawkes.” Road Hog’s voice beat that into her open mouth, down her throat, into her brain, “That’s your legacy name from the Registry. That is you. Not Junk Rat, you understand?” Hog informed her, “Junk Rat is Jamie Right. He’s not to know. He’s never to find out.” 

Smoothing down her shirt when she was released, “Yeah…yeah, okay. I gotcha. I’m the rich girl. He’s jus’- Jus’?.”

“He wouldn’t be happy.” Hog knows this instinctually. Amber would eventually fit right in, but from what he’d seen, Junk Rat never would. He’s protecting the man. He’s a protector, that’s what he does. He doesn’t even think medicine would help the kid, he was just too twitchy for modern day society on Earth. 

“So we never tell him?”

“We’ll drop you off at Earth. You have his genetics chip. He has yours. They won’t retest your blood or anything since I was the one your great uncle assigned to pick Julianna up. You collect the will. I get paid. You live a life of luxury. We don’t speak of this again. Deal?”

“Deal.” She mumbled.

It takes a few days, but Junk Rat is finally well enough to sit up. “Well! Look who it is! Lil princess. You ‘ave to promise to give them Earth suits ‘ell for me, alrioght? Julianna.” He whistled, “Nice name, what about me, Roadie? You got me chipped, right?” He held out his good arm at the other and gave him an expectant look.

“Jamie. Must be short for James...But your dad was a James…Jamison?”

“Ugh. Hate that name. Stickin’ with Junk Rat.” He hawked a luggie onto the floor to show his disgust. Which Road Hog made a horrified face of revulsion behind his mask. Patting the fat man on the cheek of his mask, Junk Rat smiled, “Well, you’re free, Hoggie! Got me treasure, got ya girl!” He seemed a bit sad, but his face didn’t betray him luckily.

“Not quite.” The man grunted, “Not done ‘til delivery.”

“Rioght, rioght…Gotta come with you to Earth, do I?” Rat seemed excited, picked back up after being wound up about losing his new friend.

“Yup, gotta finish the job.”

“Looks like we’re going legit, Road Hog.” The blond cackled, “Get me a leg and a nice arm too out of the deal once we’re paid, hmm? Guess we’re still partners, eh?”

“Guess we’re still partners. Fifty-Fifty?” He asked the small junker.

Caramel eyes squinted, “Oi, I’m the boss. I make the deals….Fifty-Fifty.” He smiled, “Gonna have to make you a lil rat patch for your pants. Part of your uni-form.” He pronounced it elongated and proud, “'N…maybe a pig patch for mine. Fifty-Fifty n’ all.”

“What about after Earth?” Amber asked, deciding to be Junk Rat’s biggest buzzkill. 

“Whot about it?” He spat at her. God, he’d be grateful once Hog dropped this cunt off, “Still might need a bodyguard. Big man ‘ere ‘as done a great job.”

Oh, the kid would definitely need a bodyguard. He’d bullshitted hard with Amber. She’d be found out quickly. It wouldn’t take any private investigator long to figure out what Road Hog had done, and then he’d be the one with a bounty on his head for kidnapping.

“I’m still employed, boss.” Hog promised.

“Rioght you are, and as your boss, go fetch us a ride off this shithole of a planet!” He ordered proudly, pointing out the door. “Oi, and take the brat with ya!” He couldn’t stand Amber. Didn’t know why, she just grated him. (Too similar to Junk Rat, if Road Hog was being honest for him.)

Hog escorted her out of Junk Rat’s room and handed her a gun, “Stay here and guard him.”

“Yes, Sir.” She mock saluted, sitting down. He looked at her….she seemed like she’d stay.

Time to go find them a ride off of this rock.


	5. Short Ride

Jamie looked at the white button up shirt and black slacks Roadhog wanted him to put on, “You gotta be barkin’ mad if you think I’m even gonna touch that.” His sooty fingers trembled as he shrank away from the pristine fabric.

“Rat, I traded good bits to a crew member for these. You better wash up. You can’t walk anywhere on Earth in what you’re wearing now.” Roadhog’s eyes narrowed behind his mask at the tattered shorts that were riddled with holes, bomb making stains, and blood smears. “You wanted to get off Delta #12, right? This is what you do. You bathe and put these on. I’ll turn the shower on for ya.”

“Shower?” He asked following the other into the closet sized bathroom to the spicket that spat hot water in bounty, “What the-?” He reached out, watching as the pressure of the rivulets immediately turned the dust on him to dirty gray and swept it away. Only his leg had been cleaned up along with his arm when he’d been in the hospital. Now was a chance for the rest of him to get some bathing. 

Leaving him alone, Hog went to the room they shared with the two bunks and sighed before climbing into his bottom cot which was not wide enough for him to sleep on without slumbering in sarcophagus style. It wasn’t comfortable, but it provided a place for his lungs to rest and his tired bones to take it easy. When Junkrat emerged, he actually looked…handsome. Blond hair slicked back, he adjusted the collar and smoothed it down, “Is this just some cultural look, you Earth people have?” He asked with a sneer, “Got me all dressed up all tight and- and tidy.” He giggled before gagging, “Awful. Awful.” He probably would have ripped it off, but he looked back to Hog and sighed, “How’s it look?”

“Good.” The man grunted, mask still on, “How was the shower?”

“You know you can drink that water, rioght? Spent half the time with me mouth wide open but it kep’ makin’ me gag. Kept hittin’ me mouth dingle.” He puffed, “Waste o’ water if you ask me: bathing. The dirt keeps the sunbeams off ya. You know, the ones that make you sick.”

“Sick?” Hog asked, bewildered a bit. He had heard something similar on Delta #12 before, but he had always had plenty of water and nano gas. That shit was the real stuff. Fixed your body and any immediate medical issues right away. 

“Yeh, you roast out in the suns. It eats away at you. Used’ta throw up jus’ about everything I ate because they made me work outside in the suns all the time.” Junkrat yawned, “I’s so dark on this ship.” He mumbled, “Makes me want to sleep all the time.”

“Sleep then, boss. You’re still recovering from your leg.” Hog needed to get up and speak to Amber before they landed. It had already been about half a week since they’d boarded the ship. The blond had spent all of it sleeping on and off still recovering on the strong pain medicine Hog had gotten him. Eventually, once the kid seemed passed out, Hog had Amber switch off with him to guard Junkrat before he ambled off of to the ship bridge to take a moment for himself. 

The ship was a large cargo vessel sent out to deliver into this branch of the galaxy with Delta #12 being their last stop. Due to it being incorporated, it was clean, professionally run, and quite spacious. It had cost quite a bit more to ride with them rather than one of the rag tag crews which had promised to get them “anywhere in one piece”, but with Road Hog’s mission almost over there wasn’t any expense to great to spend in the chance of reducing risk of complications. Feeling the strangely familiar steel walls, the man eventually took a seat in the mess rom at one of the many empty tables and opened a worn black book to begin making notes in. Eventually, he looked out the window to his right. The smooth glass spanned the entire wall and was the perfect mural of space. He could see them passing other shimmering colonies in the distance. Small suns and blue hued stars were speckled here or there. Taking a deep breath, he was at peace internally for what felt like to be the first time in a thousand years. “It’s nice ain’t it?” The scratchy voice of Jamison rang through the air, “Yeah, it’s everything I thought it’d be an’ more. It sings to ya.” His eyes didn’t disconnect from the window as he sat down across the table from Roadhog who pocketed his black book into his bag on the floor.

“I guess space does kind of speak to you.” He offered in conversation.

“It’s because space is our mother. We come from her. She calls us back.” The skinny man stretched out his prosthetic leg finally looking away from the void to the large man in front of him, “What’s your name, Hoggie? Your real one, not the one you go by.”

“Mako.” He answered truthfully. Although, in some places, not here, not on Earth, he went by it. His companion seemed to weigh the information without comment. There was a long silence.

“You know, Hoggie,” Junk Rat began thoughtfully, “When I was a kid, I used ta think that maybe the reason why Oz was so horrible was because that was all that was left of humanity. That we were paying for sins of the past, and that Earth had been destroyed. That’s what a lot of the adults said that their gran’parents said. That they left Earth for a better life, so I was under this illusion that Earth must be a rioght hellhole. That it was worse than Delta #12, but obviously, I grew up. I learned better. I learned more about Oz and how we had been abandoned. How Oz was just the outreach of greedy hands for more materials from a planet that spread itself too thin and wanted to keep its people too fat.” He paused, “I’m worried, Mako.” Amber eyes looked the other directly in his almond colored ones. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then these ones were the window to the right, baring the nakedness of the universe at him, “I’m worried I’m going to love Earth. I heard it’s green. Green aint a color I saw for the first time until I was fifteen. Nothing is green on Oz. It’s only red, yellow, n orange. Red in the brands. Yellow n the dirt, and orange for the skies cause those blasted suns rarely set. What if I love Earth too much? What if I love it because it’s green, and I forgot how they abandoned us out there? How they abandoned everyone on Oz?”

He turned back to the window. Mako shivered. The air around Jamison a storm that he couldn’t look away from, “You know, how could I forget, though?” He laughed the laugh of someone sick; someone who’s dying. Hog knew this only because he’d been one to laugh like that at one point. One point long ago. “How could I forget every hour made of every minute of me thinking that I was going to make them pay?” The voice was sharp as a knife, carving an oath into time, “I’m going to make every last one of them suffer just like I have. All of the suits across space. Wherever they forgot us. Wherever they tried to make a buck off the backs of the poor, I’ll be there. I’ll make them wage in blood for every single day I lived as a slave in Oz. For every Doll Maker, for every Sandmaker, I’ll make them pay.” His fists were clenched so tight, nails made little crescents in his palm.

He was glad he’d made the call when he had. Junkrat was clearly dangerous. He was a man set for revenge, and while Road Hog perhaps knew of what some of that was like, the fortune Julianna was inheriting in the wrong hands… Junkrat made it clear he was going to tear every star out of that black sky if he had to. He’d cut them out and shred the tapestry that was their solar system to get revenge, but how could he take revenge on men that were no longer alive? How could he take revenge on men that he was the last flesh and blood of? Mako didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know.


	6. Ghosts

Amber’s hands shook as she swiped her genetics chip over the seal on the will. Mako’s stare was as stony as the lawyer who may have seemed to suspect something. Perhaps they had distracted him from the charade with Junkrat as the wild man ate another frond from the lawyer’s fern. “Well,” He began as the will accepted Julianna Fawkes as the recipient, “Everything seems to be in order. Mister Rutledge, you will be paid as according to your deal with Howard Fawkes. He also has left you three letters that he wrote while you were abroad. I have them here.” The man slid open a wooden drawer from his desk and passed the yellowed envelopes to the large man. Mako had to resist from opening them right there, “And Miss Fawkes, I will take charge of you now. Mister Rutledge, you and your... companion are free to go.” 

Exiting from the office that was at the end of a regal hallway in Fawkes mansion, Mako put his mask back on becoming Roadhog, “Junkrat, pay attention and don’t wander off.” The blond’s hands were already muddy again from the fern, and he had smeared some onto his face, already staining his white shirt and clean skin. Of course, Roadhog hadn’t expected the shirt to last long, just long enough for them to drop off Amber and for him to get paid. Slitting the envelopes, he scanned the lines before taking time to read over what was written again. The paper was coated in sleek blue cursive which betrayed the message of savagery in the words.

He didn’t know how long he had sat there in shock, having thought he’d finally overcome his past, before Junkrat tugged at one of his large fingers, “You okay, mate?” Swallowing thickly, he didn’t know what this feeling in his gut was. He hadn’t been afraid or enraged in a long time. Not since- He looked at his hands which were shaking, “Oi, breathe.” Junkrat told him, and it made the large man realize he was suffocating. Wheezing hard, he struggled for his mask and took a huff of the gas available. It eased his labored breathing, but not the raw of his emotion. “You seem real shook up, Hoggie. You upset about losing your Sheila back to that suit back there?” The blond cackled, “You wanna blow this place to the ground? I hate it. Hate everything about it.” He spat, “Maybe not Amber, she…she’s okay. She’s like us, but this place is a monument to everything…” The words fade out, and Mako slipped on his other mask, digging deep and burying himself. 

“Yeah,” He finally says, voice hard as Junkrat took another round at describing how nice this place would be when it burned to the ground, “Let’s do it.”

A pause, “Really, Hoggie? You going to let me?” The thin man rips the sleeves off his shirt and shreds his pant legs with a knife that seemed to be plucked from thin air. A smile was plastered across the Rat's face as he spoke, “Give me ten minutes, Hog. Ten minutes. I’ll be right back.” He giggled, slinking off, “First the bathroom, then the kitchen. Gotta- Gotta find the ingredients.” Hog watched sourly as the kid disappeared only an occasional laugh to be heard. Quite horrendous that none of the house staff even bothered to inquire really. The Fawkes should invest in better people. 

If anyone had thought Junkrat was stupid, that he was just some lunatic from the waste of humanity, Roadhog would have had to thrash them. The man had within the promised amount of time, brought the mansion to flame, “Grease in the kitchen, and the flour, always the flour.” He whispered as if he’d done this before. “Let’s go, Roadhog.” He barked as an order, getting the large man to look away from the flames as he took a sip from a mug of hot tea Junkrat had swiped him while in the kitchen before throwing the china cup to the ground shattering it. Yeah, the fire (and surprisingly the tea cup?) helped, but Roadhog was still angry. He had taken the home of Howard Fawkes to the ground, but he needed more. 

It wasn’t enough. He watched the fire swallow up the house, sirens singing in the background as they stood in the lawn. Unpacking his bike from his bag, he pushed a button and watched as the bots built it into place. It was something, but it wasn’t enough. God damn those letters. It wouldn’t ever be enough. 

They immediately boarded another ship as soon as they reach the harbor. This time, it isn’t an incorporated one which would have to report in on who had boarded. No, they go with the sketchy private crew. They don’t say what they’re transporting, and Roadhog is fine with that. They’re going to Brixton, a B level planet. They let them steal away in the hold. 

“That was amazing.” Rat sighed, toying with his grenade launcher that he successfully found reconstructed in Hog’s side car, “Wish I’d had this back there in the mansion, would have had a real symphony.” He hummed to himself, “This just in, Junkrat calling! Brrrrring! On-core!” He cackled.

Roadhog grunted, hoping that the blond would burn himself out shortly.

Nope, the laughter ripped through the other again as they settled in the freighter, “Oi, Hog, I liked Earth. Liked the way the fire burns here. Burns different than it did on Oz. Where we goin’ now? What we doin’?” More silence. Maybe if he didn’t respond, the kid would shut up (even though Hog knew better). Junkrat on the other hand responded to the awkward silence with more nervous babbling, “Aw, I get it. I get it. Waitin’ for me to come up with a plan cuz I’m the boss; I see.” The blond began to think, “Oi, what if we steal the ship, hmm?” He whispered leaning up against the large man’s gut. "A present for you, Hog." That earned him a swift lift by the throat and Rat gasped, “Okay, okay, bad idea.”

“No, keep going, but don’t touch me.” He just- 

“Ah, ah, alright.” Rat nodded solemnly as if he suddenly understood everything and then leaned in a way where only his mouth was against the silver haired man’s ear, “Ah, okay. There’s seven of them. Two sleepin’ usually. We attack in between shift. Late crew is too tired to do much. New crew still isn’t quite awake. Middle crew, we get them first.” He grinned, “Trap the new crew in with the metal. Scrap ‘em. We need to keep the pilot to train one of us, probably you to fly unless you think I can do it by watching him for a day or two in the cockpit.” Roadhog shivered as Junkrat’s fowl breath roamed his skin. It was surprisingly warm for a man whose heart was cold as ice when it came to human life, must have run in his genes, “We get the ship, hmmm? And I know that whoever these guys are, they’re doin’ probably more than just transporting felons for a buck.” He stood, dusting himself up, but it was a feeble effort against the gray soot from the smoke of the mansion and the dirt of the hold. The cramped space was shared with large crates. Junkrat looked around, started tapping on the crates lightly, then the walls. Tap, tap tap, tap.

“Rat, stop.” The incessant noise was too much. Hog needed to rest. Tap, tap, “Rat! Honestly, you've been at it an hour. Thunk. Junkrat’s wild eyes looked back to the other like a lion who had just found its prey.

“Ship’s thirty four feet across. Hold is at the widest point, thirty two and a half. That leaves a foot and a half unaccounted. A trim man could squeeze down from a subfloor. The ship has a base underneath this flooring. You can hear it," He thunked his peg against the meddle, "Or at least I did when I walked in. Crates for mediships are ten by five, stacked by height, they could easily fit…six, seven crates wedged back. Would need to be moved on with the other crates unmarked from the hold. Slip it in from this hole beneath this false crate here.” He pushed the metal crate away revealing a sliver of darkness which eventually revealed itself to be a crisp five by ten where a wall of wood greeted them. “Sandman’s bar was built from wood from medi boxes from off world. Four of them make a good sized bedroom for a whore.” He grunted, stripping a piece of wood off with his mechanical arm which whirled in strain, “Oi, big guy, time to work.”

Hog grunted already impressed before getting up to come lift the side of the crate off in one big crack. He hoped none of the crew responded to that. Opening it, he looked down at their medical miracle. Junkrat greeted their pot of gold with a frown showing the label to Hog: Terrafor. 

“What is this shite supposed to be?” 

“Acclimation medicine for colonies on radiation soaked planets.” Roadhog answered without faltering, but he felt frozen again, “Supposed to keep your DNA from mutating.”

Junkrat looked at him, “It work?”

“…No.” Hog went and sat back down, “Go to sleep, Rat, after you clean up.” That was it for him today. He need to just...sleep it off. Sleep the last fifty years off.

“You gonna explain, Roadie? You gonna tell me what this is all about? What’s it mean? What’s it-“

“I said,” He shot Rat a glare, “Go to sleep, after you clean up. Don’t you ever listen, you stupid drongo? For a brat so fucking smart, you sure can't clue in when you aren't wanted. Junkrat, pah! Fuck off!” He hadn't even realized he was yelling until he was done speaking to the other.

For once, after a long look from the other, Junkrat sullenly did as he was told and stacked up the lid silently before slipping the false crate back into place, screwing the bolts back into the floor where he had found them. Junkrat ended up curling up underneath a blanket across the hold from him. Shirking it off, Roadhog knew the kid would get over it. 

Hog woke up to Rat right next to him, eyes shining like a cat’s in the dark. When the thin man heard Hog’s breathing hitch in start, he pressed the knife against Hog’s throat so he could feel it, “Don’t you get an attitude with me. Don’t think just ‘cause I’m nice to you, just ‘cause I’m soft I won’t gut you like the swine you are.” Junkrat giggled, “You burn me; I’ll find you. I don’t care if you got fucked over by that suit back on Earth, but don’t you dare take it out on me. We are on the same side. Fifty-fifty, you fuck.” He hissed, drawing blood. Hog moved a large fist, “Ah ah ah,” Junkrat murmured a trigger line tense over his arm, “You’ll blow us both to bits.”

“Junkrat- You cunt.” He felt the anger boil up in his chest and gut again.

“Yeah, yeah, I am. But I’m the only cunt you’ve got as far as I’m aware in this universe that’ll do anything it can to fuck you over.” He smiled, teeth white in the lowlight of the hold. “So,” He began again, pulling the knife away, “We’re partners. Don’t take whatever it is out on me. I’ll release you when you go back to sleep. Don’t move.” They breathe in a stalemate for what seemed like hours.

He doesn’t remember going to sleep, but when he wakes up, the ribbon thin red line that’s scabbed over on his neck is the only reminder he has of that tense moment, but Junkrat is back to his bubbly self, giggling about the powdered eggs they’d been served that morning, “Delicious. Love it.” He slurped them up messily, stuffing his face, eating with his hands. Roadhog almost lost his appetite watching before he opted for the fork. “What’s this?”

“Imitation bacon,” He supposed, tossing his to Junkrat who snapped it up with his sharp teeth, scarfing it down like an shark coming up f or a seagull. Was Hog supposed to ignore what had happened last night? He supposed maybe in a world where Junkrat had no power, that was the only way he could speak back without threat of violence. And, to be fair, Mako thinks, he had choked him. 

“It’s delicious; best thing I ever eaten. It meat?” Junkrat asked, stealing the other away from his thoughts.

“Yup.”

“What’s this?” He held up a red slice of tomato. 

“Tomato?” 

“Never heard of it.” He took a bite, “It’s sweet. I like it. Real slimy.” He spoke, spraying egg as his mouth opened. When breakfast was done, he scampered off, “Gonna go stake out the cockpit, Hoggie. Don’t get too lonely without me! I know how you prattle on to yourself.” He laughed. 

He wishes he had fewer words in his head right now. Alone, Roadhog's thoughts felt louder than ever as he added the letters to his diary, rereading them again before penning in his response. Howard’s tone was so nonchalant in its confession of inhumanity. Must run in the family, he thinks of Jamison and his penchant for distruction.

Removing his mask, he let down his hair and brushed it. Trying to soothe himself with the grooming ritual. The memories flowed through him: his wife had loved combing his hair all those years ago. His daughter’s hair had been her pride and joy. A weak smile flitted over his features as his eyes drifted shut in the silence. His planet was so different from Oz and most of Earth. Lush, green, covered in oceans. Although, the crystals that jutted out of the sea were ripe for causing mutations. 

He thinks about the clear waters. All of the oceans on his planet were clear as glass. A few spotted islands dotted here or there. The planet had been class A before the effects of the crystals had been discovered demoting it to a C level. No terraforming had been required, but the Terrafor had been pressed upon them to reduce mutations or birth defects. The people of Earth would reject anyone trying to come from a planet like Cableshope. They didn’t need their purist population infected with the inferior. He pushes that aside, remembers being in a canoe over the sea creatures. The large purple sharks beneath them swallowing clouds of neon pink fish. He was bathed in the pastel blue of white from their sun. His daughter giggling as she dipped her hand into the cool sea. They were sailing to one of the forest villages out beyond the horizon. The giant trees were birthed from the sea forming forests where ocean creatures and sky alike would congregate. The humans had built their homes in their branches. 

Letting out a long sigh, he flips open his journal. He sketches the memory. Remembers their names. It’d been seventy three years and eight months since he’d been home. It’d been twenty nine black books. This one as worn as the rest to eventually be tucked into the depths of his bag. If his daughter was alive, she’d be a shriveled old woman. She would barely remember him. Barely remember what happened that night.

He slams the book shut. Throws it against one of the shipping crates as he resists screaming, wrecking something. Puts his mask back on. Breathes. 

He eventually goes to pick back up the book. Rereads the lines of the letter.

_And I am sincerely sorry, perhaps in the slightest, for taking ownership in you for your rebellion. For enslaving you for your rebellion. Fawkes industries has always been the subsidiary owner of Terra Medic. The primary producer of Terrafor. I was the one who ordered to have your group killed. If other planets found out what your people had learned...I would have lost billions and perhaps been arrested for scamming the whole Delta system. Imprisoning you, the experimentation, it was all me, but I had to it. Without it, without what you've done for me I wouldn't have been able to keep things running. You were my left hand, and perhaps killing your wife was not necessary. None of it was truly necessary, but it happened. And you are now, what you are now because of me. The immortality in trade for that life? I think that would be worth the exchange, but I am a dying man. And you….well you are a hollow shell of your former self, Cyborg, morals never did become a man of your size. I think you should thank me, though. I gave you the one think you truly wanted in the end just by me dying. Your immortality will always have me green eyed. Perhaps...if I wasn't the coward._

The letter continues, the confessions of a man confined to his mortality, and just like Junkrat, he wonders if he can take revenge on the dead.

Together, they’ll kill the ghosts that haunt them.


	7. Love Garbage

Junkrat’s in the pilot’s seat wearing the ex-pilot’s goggles and jacket. He seems to really enjoy them compared to the clothes that Roadhog had purchased for him before Earth, “That’s because those ones don’t fit rioght.” He muttered, “Too clean, they did’n fit me. Not like _this_.” He accentuates to his body as if it exudes fashion now. The roar of the engine hums in the distance behind them as a familiar white noise. The view from the window is different than the one from the mess hall on the previous ship. Somehow, this one feels more inspiring, maybe it’s the difference between being in control of the vessel and the other being clinical as they watched as passengers. Hog speculated.

“Clean is good.” Hog feels like he’s answering reflexively. He’s still in a daze, but he feels more at ease with a man’s skull recently crushed between his palms. He inspected the blood that had soaked in on the right ear flap. That would probably stain, but there was no way he’d be able to get it off Junkrat to soak it. The cockpit was feverishly warm with their two bodies jammed in there. It was only made for one man, probably Jamie’s size. Hog knows where he doesn’t belong, “Where are we going?” 

“Oh, no clue. Just following the previous destination the crew had to their second unknown planet. Might as well have our cake and eat it too. Take their pay for delivery.” He gave Hog a dazzling smile. “After all, we have the gas. Unless you have other plans…I’d like to take the pay, though.”

Muddy eyes looked at him expectantly when he didn’t say something immediately, “You did good, boss.” He pats the other twice on the shoulder. The bones beneath his hands felt like they belonged to a bird.

Junkrat shivered and made a trilling sound, “Rioght I did! Figured out how to fly this thing just after one stop. No need for that ol’ cunt anymore! Boom!” He motioned of shooting the man through the temple, “Blew his brains right out I did.” He stuck his tongue out as he giggled, “Good fun, Hog. Love being a winner. Hey, mate, mind going to scurry up something from the kitchen?”

“You mean scrounge up from the kitchen?”

“Aw no,” Junkrat gave him that devilish smile again, brows wild as he bathed in the glow of a thousand stars, “I only like to sink me teeth in to something that was moving recently. Make ‘em scurry.”  
Hog groaned. There was nothing to ‘scurry’ up in the kitchen like Junkrat requested. He lifted his mask for a brief moment as he looked in the crew refrigerator. There was a surprising amount of fruits and vegetables, but they had just come from Earth, so that shouldn’t have shocked him. The meat was good too. He could work with this. Slapping some butter down in the pan, he began to prepare the ingredients as the meat sizzled in the pan. It wasn’t until he was finished slicing the peppers that he realized the blond was crouched next to him, watching expectantly. “Hm?” He grunted.

“Your hands work real nice.” That was all Junkrat said before turning away to take a seat and hide his blush. The blond felt that familiar thrill. The thrill he sometimes got when he just killed a man and got a good haul of junk. Or when he made a bomb just right and got that nice fire that blazed up in a column. There was something about watching Roadhog that just filled that craving piece of anatomy in the skinny man, but it made him want more. 

This brat is trying to flirt with him. First in the cockpit, now this. It been bouncing back and forth all the way from Oz. Considerate eyes let Junkrat turn away into himself like the kid likes to. Normally the older man wouldn’t even have given it second thought, but letting flirtation blaze wild with a person like Jamison could be a dangerous thing. Ah, but he’s always been tempted by danger, by the challenge, by the pay off. It has been a long time since anyone had considered his dark, age worn skin and silver hair. He knows he’s probably four times Rat’s elder. Mako hasn’t aged a day past 53, though. He always thought that immortality, you stayed young forever. Nah, he thinks to himself; you get a sore back and creaking joints for infinity. “Jamie, put the kettle on the stove for tea.”

Junkrat had become slightly less offended by the sound of his own name, but his eyes still narrowed at Roadhog as he did as he was told. “Aren’t you wondering who’s flying the ship?” He asked wide eyed.

“Junkrat, I’ve been on several ships. You’ll have to do better than spook me with auto pilot.” He chuckled, ruffling the other’s hair noticing that the ends had been singed a bit, “Ey, that’s new.”

“Got bored before killin’ the blokes. Played with me hair.” The man started the electric burner managing to slosh a bit of water, “Whatcha makin’, Mako?” He teased the other using his birth name against him.

Eye brows raised, Roadhog took the hint, “Fajitas with grilled veggies. Do you like spice?”

“Spice, whots that?” He asked dipping his finger into the butter and making a face at the taste, “Its real bad if that’s what it is.”

“Kid…that’s butter.” He gave the other a look, “Rat, you tellin’ me you’ve never had butter before?”

“Oh, yeh, I’ve had it. Once or twice. Never seen it just like this. Usually on that crunchy bread though.” He’s sniffing at the pan, “Smells real good.” The drooling begins and the large man pushes him away for the safety of his sanitary meal. “I like bread a lot. It’s my favorite food. We got any of that?” Hog tosses him a warmed tortilla and Junkrat puts the tortilla on his face before deciding to eat it. Tasty…  
When the meal is served, Junkrat is forced to eat slowly by Roadhog who shows him how to eat. “It’s a pattern. You mirror whoever you’re eatin’ with. Like those lizards, it’s not fair to scarf them all down. There’s always going to be plenty of food from here on out, okay? Gotta take time or you’ll make your stomach hurt.” Establishing basic survival security with the blond was proving to be a hassle, but assuring him that running water and food would last would pay off eventually. 

“Stomach always hurts, mate.” Jamison frowned, “Sometimes it makes me bleed.”

Roadhog’s eyes scanned the other’s face, and there seemed to be some vulnerability there in his health, “You bleeding now?”

“Nah, only bleed cuz I get too hot. Too much sun, I think.”

He opens his mouth to say something, but then decides better, closes it. “No sun here.”

“No sun here.” Junkrat parroted and dug in.

Even prior to being alone on the ship, they spent almost all their time together, but now with Roadhog beginning to notice that Junkrat had a crush on him, it felt like their moments were in a whole new light. Junkrat never asked about anything that was actually important to Mako outside of reciprocated knowledge. If Roadhog knew something about Junkrat, Jamison got to find it out about Mako. They didn’t talk about the past, so Roadhog’s journal, no matter how much he used it in front of the other, proved to be none of Junkrat’s business. He would ask him about hobbies, Earth, his motorcycle, what kind of explosions he liked. He asked about movies a lot once Hog had told him about them. It seemed that underneath all the madness, there was some order.

That meant, Roadhog realized, that Junkrat lived by about three prime rules. 1) If it belongs to someone you can beat, it belongs to you. 2) Those who are rich inherently have made their wealth off those beneath them (So blow ‘em all to hell!) and 3) ???? He’d figure it out.

A good way to shut the blond up, though, was to offer a fact about his past. Because of the set of guidelines the blond seemed to keep himself on to not royally piss the other off, it helped to offer him something he couldn’t talk about. This then forced Rat to sit there and mull it over until that busy brain of his burst and moved on to something else. By the end of the night, he’s managed to keep Rat as well behaved as a cat being chased by a small swarm of bees. A big improvement from the larger swarm of bees, he thinks.

Wrong. Big swarm. Huge swarm, “I called this cabin.” Junkrat has somehow managed to spread his tiny body all over the king sized mattress in the captain’s quarters where the captain and her wife had apparently been living quite happily until Roadhog. He’s throwing a tantrum and whining and, “I’m the boss! I’m the captain.”

Nothing is working. The room is cute and well decorated. It’s floral and comfortable. There’s nothing here Junkrat would want but to destroy it. He’s about to sigh when he remembers, “Boss,” He says in an even tone, “I can’t fit on any other mattress. Please.”

Junkrat’s eyes are wide. Sparkling. He is in a dilemma. Boss, rioght, well of course he is. Uh, should um…give the bed to Hoggie, but…He’s the boss. Captain. He likes this room. Smells nice just like that lady (Who was that lady? Gotta think on that one.) even if it looks like a bunch a’ women were livin’ here, jus’ like the- “Whoa!” He rolled out of the way as Hog placed himself onto the bed and Jamie was forced to the edge. “Hog! Not fair! I didn’t say you could!”

“Boss,” Because that’s the only way he can keep from saying ‘brat’, “I’m not going anywhere. You can either share the bed or leave.”  
Junkrat because he is petulant remains spiraled up like a an angry cinnamon roll until Hog is asleep, but when he wakes up, the man is curled up behind a chair on the other side of the room. “Rat,” He speaks to the other gently, “Rat,” The other seems tired, probably because his sleep schedule is fucked from being on so many ships when he was on that weird two sun solar cycle, “Rat,” He puts a hand on the man’s side to move him to bed, but he’s suddenly full of six feet plus wiry limbs trying to fight him.

“Let go, you bastard! Can’t get no goddamn rest in this shithole without you layin’ a hand on me! Get the fuck off-!” God, this kid could scream. Hog battles of the hands as the other continues to hound him for his alleged crimes, until it becomes apparent that the blond isn’t all the way awake. 

“Junkrat- Jamison- Jamie!” He shouts and a light switch goes on in Junkrat’s mind and he’s staring at the large man in front of him with an expression mixed between fear and familiarity.  
Junkrat’s heart is pounding. He always has those dreams when his stomach gets ready to bleed and it makes him want to cover his whole body in ash so no one will want to touch him. He’ll be dead before any one of Sandman’s gang fucks him raw again. The disconnect is so unreal he starts to gag, head spinning before he puts his head between his knees and rides out his nightmare.

Hog doesn’t touch him. He had moved away from the other and taken a seat. Not talking. He plays with his septum piercing a bit, grunts slightly as he realizes he should shower. It takes a few minutes but eventually Junkrat seems to be moving towards being in one piece, “I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable by me taking the bed.”

Junkrat looked up, still a wild animal in human skin, “I…I uh…Only wanted it because it smelled like me mum.” He looked away, as if ashamed for admitting that he too loved a woman once. 

“I thought you never met your-“ He stopped, realizing he was about to fuck everything up. The whole reason Jamison was here and not on Earth. He paused, “Your mum smells like lilies?”

“Yeah, she came n saw me in the market once. Gave me a rat she had tamed for me birthday. Uh…Think it was me tenth maybe. Said she had been watching me on and off. Glad she gave me to Dollmaker. Looked healthy. Named ‘im Mouse. Soft as could be. Loved the thing to death.”

“What happened to him?”

“Ah, the only good thing that ever happened to me in Oz. He died of ol’ age.” Jamison laughed a bit teary eyed. “God, I loved that rat.”

“So is that where you got your name, Mouse?” He asked, “Dollmaker called you-“ 

Steel fingers curled, gripping his now amputated leg, “No. I’ve always been Rat. Was Rat since the day I was born.” He stood, “I’m gonna go get a drink of water.” 

“Wait-“ He knows he’s breaking Rat’s rule. If he asks this, he’s opening himself up to a million questions, but the kid has him hooked. “Why Junk Rat then?”

“Ah,” The other pauses, stirs his organic foot a bit against the soft rug, “Well, there’s just about a million reason under the suns for that one. But-” He gripped his crotch lasciviously at the other, “I got the Junk.” And disappeared out the doorway. 

Fucking shit, Roadhog hid his face in his hand, he was in it deep now. He was in some real deep emotional shit. This was some real love garbage right here. 

“Jamison!” He hollered, cheeks burning. “You’re not cute!”

God, he loved that laugh.


	8. Trade

Hog is laughing because of course Rat only knows how to take off and didn’t watch former pilot land completely. He whoops as they come down hot through the atmosphere toward the landing pad. He can hear someone on the radio behind them screaming something as Junkrat is laughing maniacally trying to figure out just how to brake (use the thrusters properly). They skid over hard concrete, narrowly avoiding knocking into another ship that had been coming towards the strip to take off. “Only avoided it because didn’t want us to have to bail before we get paid.” Rule 4: Money came before destruction. But now that they were down, a swarm of people from the control office were heading towards them, “Ah crickey, got like…identification or something?”

“No.” Hog snorted, “But I got this.” He patted his scrap gun. They got up and headed to the cargo hold.

“Oh Hoggie, you really know how to woo a guy.” The blond batted his eyes dramatically at him as he hit the button to open the bay door.

“And here I thought I was getting out of practice.” The bay door dropped and Junkrat paused for a moment. He wasn’t a very good liar. He talked too much too fast and tripped himself up in tongue tie.

“Gentlemen,” The leader of the dock police greeted, “What happened to y’all comin’ in?”

Junkrat looked down at the ground. Roadhog put a hand on his shoulder, “My young companion here decided to try his first real landing out of simulator, and I couldn’t take over in time. Barely missed the ship coming in when I landed. So sorry.” 

“We’ll be fining you for damage to the landing pad.” The control officer hmphed as if he’d really got them good, “It’ll be tacked onto your parking bill. We’ll also be documenting your negligence to the federation, that’ll be close to thirty points off your license. Lads, you can handle the citation to the ship.” He turned on his heel and stalked off.

“Jimmy, you go on with him. I got this one.” One of the other officers in a blue jumpsuit shooed the younger coworker off. It’s several moments of him writing a ticket while Roadhog wonders what he’s going to do with it later. He settles on maybe making a crane out of it before the man smiles slyly. “You the Del Rey?”

“Yeah.” Junkrat looked up, knowing that tone of voice. That was the tone of voice that meant they had a deal to make. Every Junker lived for that voice, his eyes narrowed, “You the guy?”

The man tapped his finger to his nose, “Thought your crew would be bigger.”

“Had an incident at the last stop. Didn’t get the weather generator off like we wanted.” Junkrat bullshitted out his ass. He had no clue how the generator worked. Roadhog did, if the blond had asked, and would have explained that it used a combination of magnetizing the planet to develop poles, and then released water and seeds into a viable terraform planet to begin cultivating the surface. Majority of planets are only hospitable for human life if they’re a C class or up. No one was ever supposed to permanently live on Delta #12. It was the only D classification that had ever seen a set of human feet.

“Hmmm,” Was all the guy said, “I don’t care what you did with the old crew. You got the Terrafor?” 

“Depends. What’s payment?” Hog stepped in, making sure they weren’t about to get a load of human chattel or other weird shit some of these lower class planets cooked up in exchange for what they needed.

“Fuel and we’ve got D class rugs for you to take back. Sell ‘em on Earth or some other A or B class and you’ll fetch a nice buck. They love that foreign C and D class shit. Gets them real hot to support charity cases like us.” He snorted, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up. Hog’s eyes narrowed. His mask had recently been cleaned, but he didn’t need to start wheezing. 

“Rugs, huh?” 

“Yeah, that high quality shit. Rich specifically seek it out from Carmen. We’re known for our handiwork.” He glanced up at the big man, “Look, if you don’t wanna play the game the Del Rey did. You can take them to the bandit’s station between here and Todida.”

“That’s more our speed. You got guys comin’?”

“Yeah, they’ll be here soon as I radio them. Get your rig set up.” The man in uniform turned and pulled a radio out of his pocket to begin fiddling with a knob. 

As they walked back to the ship, Junkrat looked up at Roadhog and sputtered, “Rugs?! What the fuck we gonna do with a load of fuckin’ carpets?” A large hand covered his mouth in a quick move causing Junkrat to almost bite his tongue.

“We’re trading medical drugs for stuff a little less…medical.” He finished with a huff, “You ever had Diamond Dust?” The answer was obviously no, but Junkrat didn’t know that.

“Nah, wazzaut?” 

“It makes you stronger. Makes your body healthier. Faster. But once you take it, you have to keep taking it. More and more until it kills you. It’s not stable. You take it; you become a half-life.” 

“How come you know so much about this Diamond Dust and this Terrafor?” Rat asked skeptically, “You holdin’ out some important details on me, big guy? I can’t plan if I don’t know.”

“You wouldn’t be able to plan even if you knew.” Hog ran a hand through his ponytail and redid it tighter, “Can’t plan for something like that. Can’t ever plan for something like that.”

Junkrat stayed quiet, let Hog handle the rest with the Terrafor and Diamond Dust. He was way in over his head right now, and he knew it. He may have known the lay of the land on Oz, but he was a child again. Had to relearn everything he knew. Gritting his teeth, he stayed quiet for once in his life. He was going to learn everything there was to learn. If they were gonna be bandits they were gonna be the best goddamn bandits this star system had ever seen, “I wanna blow this place to bits.” He muttered. 

Hog was distracted, couldn’t watch both a sneaky Rat and handle business, so Rat slipped off to place a few loving goodbye presents. He set a timer for each one. An hour and a half. They had to be finishing up soon, right? They’d be off world by then. If not, he’d just scramble back before the eggs in the basket broke and blasted them all into an omelet. 

Sure enough, they were taking off at about fifty minutes. They had left the atmosphere quickly as they had came in leaving Rat to watch the smoke from one of the rear windows. “That you?” Hog snorted a bit in laughter looking at the smoke billow up, “What the hell did ya do?”

“Put ‘em on a load of barrels that had chemical notation. Shouldn’t have left that stuff out for loading.” Rat laughed, “But hey, I wanna know about this Terrafor, Hog. If we’re gonna be travelin’ together, livin’ together. You can’t leave me in the dark. I ain’t got nowhere else to go, so I aint gonna fuck you over. I’d like to know I at least have the same curtesy considering you had a full run of diggin’ up my past as we barreled out of Oz.” The skinny man seemed intent on getting what he wanted. “I don’t even need the whole thing. Just enough to know, ya feel me? I don’t care about your books. I just gotta know…ya got enemies? Cuz if we’re gonna be causing a lot of noise, and boy, am I ever, ya gotta let me know if there’s gonna be people after ya. Knowin’ shit about illegal drugs n rich high powered fancy suit men…an enforcer for Sandman on Delta #12 for however long you were there…what kind of man are you?” There was a long pause before the mountainous man heaved a heavy sigh.

“That’s just it, Rat.” He looked the small blond in the eyes, “I’m not a man.”

-O-

Mako wakes up and the lights are bright. They’re so bright, just like they are every time they turn on. The restraints on his wrists and ankles are cold. He’s cold. Skin prickling up, he hears the door open and the soft feet of the doctor; well, one of the doctors. He’s had a couple of them ever since he came to Athens Prison. A moon compound that was supposed to keep dangerous offenders from ever reaching any human civilization ever again. There weren’t even escape pods or rockets docked other than when the guards switched out every two years. Just for that one day, every two years. This doctor had been with him at least that long, which meant he’d been here…a long time now. Five doctors worth of time.

The routine starts with an injection, the first one of six for the day. The liquid is a shimmery sort of bluish purple that you only see at sunsets or sunrises. It’s sunrise for Mako. Sunrise burns like fire through his veins. Makes his brain feel like his skull is three sizes too small, and his heart thunders in his chest. He goes into an asthma attack, routine, the first one of three throughout the day. For all the shit they’d done to him, made him stronger, faster, more dangerous, they couldn’t fix his weak ass lungs from collapsing in on themselves. 

His arm is off right now, disconnected from its circuit which is different from when one of his legs is off. You can only see that they’re parts if you’re looking at the seams. One day, this doctor promises, he’ll have it so the nano bots swallow up the seams and make that look like skin too. 

He remembers what they’ve done to him by counting the doctors. When he first arrived, he’d mulled around in grief about all the things that led him here. The rebellion, the raiding of shipments, the preparing of the BIG REVEAL. That’s what they’d called the hijacking of the universal signaling equipment that they were going to use to broadcast the fact that mutations were inevitable and shouldn’t inherently be discriminated against. So what if they made humans different, they still all deserved the same rights. But the BIG REVEAL went wrong. They got caught by galactic military enforcement, the private kind; the kind that puts a bullet through your skull if you look at them wrong and turned the rest of them in for processing. They had known Mako was the leader. Roadhog, his codename, was fast out of their mouths. He’d inherited an off world motorcycle from one of his off world relatives. Valuable anywhere but on a sandy island. He’d inherited the name from other islanders after driving the few paved areas in their region a few times on the thing. A silly thing, but the name had stuck. A fond beginning for nickname that spiraled into a title used by his enemies. His enemies which stood in front of him, gun pressed to his thick jaw. They knew his name.

They also knew that his wife was in his crew.

So they shot every damn woman there in front of him.

They didn’t know which one was his wife. He’d kept a straight face the whole time trying to bust their bluff. To be strong, and every one of those women had given him the same panicked look: save me. Save me. I trusted you! I trusted you, and you were supposed to lead us into a new world. A better world.

Bang. Splat. Thud.

The men got lucky on their fourth try. There she was. He wouldn’t even dare say her name. Didn’t dare let his eyes flash with emotion. Steel- that’s what he was. Bang. Splat. Thud. She dropped like all the others. Some of the men in his crew cried, begged, pleaded. Not him. Not because he thought that was weak (not at the time), but because he knew it made no difference. He had told them that they’d chosen their fate in the rebellion. All of the ragtag militia had. It was just their crew who’d been caught, though.

They shipped him off to Athena to serve two hundred years for all his actions against the Federation: the ones who’d made the laws that Terrafor (or any mutation prevention drug) must be taken by all B tier two planets and down. In his imprisonment, he’d forced himself to become a new man to survive. If he couldn’t resist the oppressors, then he would just finish his life out in prison best he could. Be the top of the food chain, he supposed, by any means necessary.

At first it starts with the sick ones, the prisoners think the doctors are harvesting organs for on worlders who need transplants. But then it’s the prison betas, the ones beneath the alphas who ruled the gangs. A few of the alphas even came to him, concerned, they’re taking them to do experimentation. Grogger told him, “One of my runts saw it when squeezing around the infrastructure on repair duty. He said he saw it through some vents. They’re juicing ‘em up and they’re bugging out. Blood boiling. Head popping kind of shit.”

Roadhog snorts. No. No way. He’d been here for twelve years now and he’d not seen a lick of that. He’d have known if- 

He wakes up in a white room with white lights and all he’s wearing is a strip of fabric around his family jewels to keep him decent. Apparently, when doing crimes against humanity, you don’t want to be looking at your subject’s dick all the time. He laughs a bit to himself at that one. That’s when he hears the screaming. Not just male, female too. “Patient 352,” The doctor blandly states into his tape recorder as he enters the room with a tired nurse behind him, “Patient begins modified trial one.”

He’d survived trial one: injections of experimental superhuman drugs (some of them filled with Diamond Dust), and two (They began to replace his limbs with cybernetics), and three (He doesn’t remember, but he wakes up and no longer needs to eat), and four. Trial four is when they think he’s the fastest, strongest, sharpest son of a bitch he can be, and they start pumping him full of nano and programing it to rip him from the inside out. They plan to rebuild him into a programmable machine. The perfect combination of omnic tech and humanity. A human who could life forever. But the only forever he knows is the burning pain. The chattering of little machines in his ear drums and all over his body, running him from the inside out.

Eventually, the only organs he’s got left is lungs, heart, and a brain on an infinite tiny circuit of pumping blood into his lungs to his brain back down to be reoxiginated. They rewired his whole damn system, vessels and circuiting, and Doctor number five finally tells him, “You’ve done it. You finished, Rutledge. You’re free to go. Anywhere in the world, but if you want, there’s someone who’s got a job for you.”

The job comes from Howard Fawkes, who has him everywhere across the universe ripping humans in half. He no longer goes by Mako; he’s back to his rebellion name. Roadhog. Roadhog, but there’s no rebellion in him anymore. No, Roadhog is complacent. He follows orders. He doesn’t laugh or tell the rich man to shove it up his ass because why would he? Orders are orders, and when the orders lead him to Delta #12, a planet so far away that not even universal signaling can program the little machines in his brain to tell him what to think, that’s when he starts to remember. Starts to become human again in little waves of confusion, and by three years, he realizes he’s missed laughing. He’s some fusion of the two now: the laughter and the destruction. But this is who Mako is now. Who Roadhog is. 

Maybe at some point, he would have to tell Rat that they needed to not blow up innocent people. He would have to start enforcing those morals he’d once loved so much. The morals that had been programmed into him that tell him not to damage federation property. Roadhog laughs, because the man governing his every thought doesn’t exist anymore. He’s free to be whoever he is and express himself however he wants. And he decides, that if rebellion in the righteous way won’t free the people of the lower planets, then maybe chaos will.

“So Jamie,” He whispers to the blond in the darkness of the kitchen as they power on to Todida. The cup of tea had long gone cold in the kid’s hand as he'd listened to the story, “Want to watch the galaxy burn?” 

The answer must be yes because he sees the fire in Junkrat's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey review and hit me up on tumblr at sweetsugarstar.tumblr.com - Don't worry, I haven't forgotten this story.


	9. Widowmaker

Amber doesn’t expect Amelie, and Amelie Fawkes, daughter-in-law of Howard Fawkes, doesn’t expect someone from the original Fawkes blood line to actually claim the chair at the end of the long table that acts as the face of their company. She had been so- so close to her goal. She had even waited for the old man to die naturally because she didn’t want to play her hand too much like she had with her now deceased husband. Oh, she had played the grieving widow and had gone to all the meetings in her husband’s place and let her father-in-law hug her as she wept because her family was on Terra 2, an A list planet too far away to comfort her on Earth. Although, her “mother” had flown in shortly after, “I see what you’re doing, Amelie. Good girl.” She had whispered in that hug. 

No, she hadn’t expected this blonde childlike woman who was mesmerized by clean water to appear a year after she had staked her claim to the throne in the stockholders room. She hadn’t expected to be told in that thick lower world accent, “You’re distant family, huh? Let’s be friendly. Please help teach me on these business matters.” God, fuck this. Fuck! She was still on the board, but second in command was unbearable. That was until she saw Amber’s chip site a few months in, “Oh honey….that looks infected. Did the doctor on Delta #12 not do a good job? That’s not surprising. The technology here is much better.”

No, Amelie knew what that was. It was a chip rejection from being paired with an incompatible host. She knew from personal experience. After all, a woman doesn’t climb this high without changing faces once or twice. This imposter was not Julianna Fawkes. She may have had her chip, which meant at some point Fawkes was alive, but no, this wasn’t her. “We’ll just,” She smiles like a snake about to swallow its prey whole, “Have to make another chip. We’ll have a doctor come in and take another sample tomorrow.”

Amber has been on Earth for five months, and she is trapped. She hasn’t felt this style of fear since she left the savagery of home. The adrenaline has made her stomach an anchor dragging her to the bottom of the sea, and she is going to drown on her own lies. Amelie knows. She knows. The blonde doesn’t know what the punishment here for identity fraud is, but she’d rather take her chances on the street and leaves in the middle of the night with cash and a few items, but it’s too late. There’s a car that follows her as she leaves. The door slides open. Her eyes slide shut as she gets knocked unconscious. 

Amelie slides back onto the throne.

But not before she gets some answers, “Where is Julianna Fawkes?” She can’t set everything up again with that unknown variable, “How did you get her chip?”

Amber knows what’s going to happen if she doesn’t answer. Teeth extraction. Amputation. Nails being driven through a palm. Doll Maker’s lifestyle had exposed Amber to it all, and she looks at Amelie, “If I tell you, you’ll slit my throat to tie up the loose end. If I don’t…looking at you, you’ll probably start with what? My fingers?” She spat, “I know your kind. You don’t survive on Oz and not know things, so I’ll cut you a deal. Oz style, I’ll cut you a- a-….a partnership.” She finally settles on the word.

Amelie doesn’t know anything about Delta #12 other than it’s the most desolate place in the universe. She doesn’t know anything about Oz style deals, but she’s interested. She’s listening. Snapping her long delicate fingers, one of her henchmen release the woman in front of her, “Ok, partner.” She tries the tentative word, finding it…acceptable.

“So here’s the story.”

It’s a long story, and by the end of it Amelie decides she kind of likes Amber. Likes her tenacity, she reminds the entrepreneurial woman of herself. “Alright,” She can live, Amelie Fawkes decides, “So you know what this…Junkrat looks like? Could recognize him out of a crowd?”

“Yes, yes. Absolutely.” Unforgettable face that ugly son of a bitch, Amber thinks.

Amelie smiles, “Time to make you one of the Widowmakers.”

~O~

 

Across the universe Roadhog and Junkrat are landing on Todida, and Junkrat suddenly feels more at home. The bandit colony is made of space debris, and the people here are as cutthroat as they are friendly at times. Roadhog is haggling with someone as soon as they dock about where they should take their goods, which is fine because Rat doesn’t know what a load of this shit is worth. He picks up one of the little baggies from the crate that Roadhog had opened to show the dockmen what they were on Todida for. He pops it open and is about to taste it before Mako grabs his wrist, “No.” 

“Yeah, kid. Can’t go tastin’ the product.” The dockman jokes, but doesn’t realize that’s not why Roadhog has the skinny wrist in his fist at all. Junkrat had just about killed himself. Again. 

The brat’s startled face dropped to frustrated and irritated real fast, and once the big man has worked out some kind of deal and date for payment, they moved the ship to their rented spot. “You want to go into town?” Hog asked the blond, knowing he was probably bored as could be. Rat had landed them a lot more safely this time, and seemed to be spending his time now fiddling with knobs and levers on the dash to see what they did. 

“No.” The skinny man puffed, “But you can do whatever you like.” Seeing as Hog did everything regardless of if Junkrat knew what was happening or not. Junkrat was the boss. Junkrat was the one that should be cutting deals. Leaving the control panel, he had suddenly remembered his treasure that he had found all that time ago. Maybe Roadhog could read it to him- No, nevermind! He was still mad at him. He retreated to the back cabin and began to rip the sheets off the bed so he could make a proper nest out of them. 

Hog followed him, “Junkrat- Rat-” He followed the blond down the narrow hallway to the door that was slammed in his face, “What is this? What’s going on? You seemed to be better after we talked last night.”

“You’re leaving me out!” The grungy little man removed his peg leg and flopped in bed. The skin there was swollen and sore, “I’m the boss! Me! You shouldn’t be up on talking above my head! Can’t tell if you’re playing tricks on me or not!”

“Rat, I’m not playing tricks on you.” He struggled on how to spin this so the Junker’s mind would understand and be happy. It’s not like Junkrat knew the full reason on why Roadhog had remained on. In fact, perhaps Roadhog didn’t understand the full reason himself. Didn’t matter. “Boss,” He said through the door in that deep voice that he knew perked Junkrat’s ears right up, “Think of me like a consultant. Ya don’t know what you’re doing so you’re paying me to know what to do, right? Got to trust I’m a good employee, right? Loyal. You finished your end of the bargain. You helped get my fancy rich girl to Earth, so gotta trust I’m not trying to pull a fast one on ya.”

What would Roadhog even have to gain on fucking Junkrat over? Nevermind, logic wasn’t always the sporadic man’s strong suit. Hog finally hears some shuffling and turns the nob; door was never locked, but he had known better than to try and enter Junkrat’s room without some form of permission. “Like you said on the ship, right? You’re the only mate I got in the whole world.”

A set of wet amber eyes are looking at him from the blankets. Rat doesn’t want to be crying. Fuck, he can’t cry. Can’t be a weak sod, but, “I didn’t expect everything to be so different.” His voice is small even to himself. “Didn’t expect all this, ya know? Thought I got a handle on it all, but this place ain’t like me world at all.” 

Roadhog sits on the edge of the bed, mattress bowing in his direction as he rubs the blankets over Junkrat’s back, “Yeah, I know.” And God if he’d stayed on Earth would Junkrat have had it worse. Doubt he could have stayed on as full time protection. He was technically more of an asset of property to the company than an employee. They could have shipped Mako off to wherever they liked. Thinking of Junkrat in board meetings and drinking coffee wearing a suit and tie made his hand’s clench a bit in frustration, “Rat, that’s what I’m here for, right? Protection.”

“Yeah mate,” Junkrat laid back exhausted from the weight of it all. He was playing twenty years of catch up from how behind Delta #12 had been. Skinny body curled up a bit in the blankets, he spoke softly, “Time to take a nap, though, I thinks. Real tired.”

“You want me to sleep with you?” Hog offered, starting to heave large limbs onto his side. “So you ain’t lonely?”

Junkrat deliberated for a moment, “Yeah Hoggie, ain’t ever lonely with you around.” At least he knew that.

Junkrat wakes up from his nap with a sense of dry mouth, being hit by a truck, and needing one hell of a pick me up. He’s got some bits to his name, so he slips out real quiet like (quiet as a peg leg can be), because Hog is still sleeping. The blond starts a tentative walk down the streets to the middle orbit deck which is the market. Everything around the markets is the Todida slums. A step up from Delta #12, but a bot on these floors could be stripped down for parts easy. Junkrat’s already feeling wary, a sense of relief really, wary is something familiar to him. He’s nearing the market when he catches something out of the corner of his eye. 

But nothing comes of it. He enters the market space and is immediately greeted by a burst of neons and colors he had never seen in his life. It was as if he’d never had vision before this. His eyes were open. All of the signs were unreadable to him, but some of them had moving pictures of noodles, or beer, or- “Where do you think you’re going?” He gets yanked back by a large, but familiar fist.

He laughs a bit, “Didn’t think you’d catch up so fast, Hoggie. Thought I heard ya wheezin’ back there? Hmm? Snuck off n thought I was ‘bout to have some time for meself, can’t a mate catch a pint alone?”

Suspicious considering their most recent conversation. Junkrat could have forgotten it though. That kid’s memory was a library where half the books had pages torn out. “Whatcha lookin’ for really?” The large man grunted, looking around so he could get them pointed in the right direction.

To get laid, Junkrat’s brain screams. His cunt is aching something awful, but he’s not gonna say it. They’re not like that. Maybe they traded words a few time. Maybe there’d been some hints, but nothing’s happening fast enough for Junkrat. It’s not like he can rub one out either. Some of his toys got left behind when they’d been leaving Delta #12. They hadn’t been ‘necessary’ at the time. A lot of things hadn’t been necessary at the time to bring up or think about, but him and Hog been tooting ‘round in the universe now for at least four months. God, he didn’t even normally want to get laid! Wanted every guy in the universe to stay two hundred miles away from down there and touching him. He’s hot all over, though, when looking at Hog. He’s looking at the other as he shines like the sun surrounded by all those neons that line the street, and God, he wish he could see what the other was thinking. 

He’s always been a risky Rat. Took his chances because sometimes that’s all you could do in a world where survival day to day wasn’t guaranteed. He wasn’t one to keep that shit locked up and pine. He wasn’t some twitty teenager delusional with love. Love, bah, if you could even call it that. Call it what it was. He liked the guy, and it seemed like they both could need a consistent lay. Well, Rat could, cuz of the being uglier than sin part, but Roadhog was probably doin’ fine for himself. Big guy like that was probably poppin’ cherries on the regular. Seems like Roadhog is kind of honing in on what he’s thinking. Well, Hog is, the mix of it: horniness and frustration, and he doesn’t really know what to do or what to think. 

The horniness he could understand, but Junkrat’s looking at him like he’s thick in the head (which Hog sort of is. He’s got a rather thick metal plated skull.). “Okay,” He says, “Yeah, I can take you to the bar down the street if you’re really that thirsty.” He wonders if the smaller man understands the double entendre there.

“Thirsty as hell, it’s like I aint ever gotten a good drink in my goddamn life.” Junkrat does, but he doesn’t care if Hog knows that he’s ready to get fucked. Not his problem if the dolt ain’t gonna take what’s being offered up. After all, there’s beer in the fridge.

They awkwardly make their way to the bar. Junkrat takes a seat and talks to a couple of guys while Hog just sits in the corner keeping an eye on him while reading his journal. There are a couple times it looks like Rat has a taker after the initial stiffness melts away from the blond, but those eyes swing back to his mask and then something is said by Rat. Hog can’t hear over the chatter of the packed area, but the man courting the lanky lover usually leaves within one or two minutes after that. Then it kind of clicks into place all the way for Hog.

See normally if Hog wants a person, he waits for them to come to him. Not hard all things considering, but Junkrat’s experiences with sex and romance are probably real twisted up. That scene a few weeks ago had definitely thrown Hog off his groove. He didn’t want to touch the other and send him into another panic attack or flashback. Rat definitely had visions in his sleep of long nights in Sandman’s den. If Rat wanted him, he’d just come to Hog when he was ready, right?

Does he….Does he really want Hog to initiate? The younger man still flinched if someone brushed his lower back or thigh sometimes. How was Hog to accommodate that? He thinks back to his wife. Communication, but goddamn if Rat was shit at that.

“I’m going back to the ship.” He tells Junkrat eventually after his revelation. Rat’s perched on a barstool as he chats with another guy. He’d only been talking to this one for a minute or two.

“Oi wait- Uh…” Rat looks to the guy in front of him, “I’ll come with ya, hmm? Don’t think I’m gonna find what I’m looking for here anyways. Beer can only do a man so much good.” Doesn’t want to get separated and be lost, really. Following Hog out, they walk through the crowded market streets and smell ginger and peppers. Dinner hour is really hopping now, and the aroma itself is a five course meal. They stop for street tacos and continue walking until the reach the quiet side streets that lead back to the dock.

Hog’s mask slides back into place after his meal, but he removes it on the ship before sinking into the couch in the recreation area of the small ship, “So,” He starts, black eyes looking at Junkrat who’s twitching nervously but making eye contact back. “Come here.” He beckons with a thick finger. Junkrat scratches his arm and shuffles over, still making eye contact with Hog. Everything’s going good so far, Mako thinks as Junkrat stands in the narrow strip between the couch and the table, “You just tell me stop when you’re ready.” He sighs a bit because he doesn’t know where to start.

His starts with Rat’s hands because Hog’s always liked the way his partner’s hands feel small in his. He holds them for a moment before opening Junkrat’s organic hand and pressing a kiss to the palm. Hog’s eyes search Junkrat’s face which is wild in confusion and surprise. His mouth is a little ‘o’ before he closes his hand and strokes Hog’s strong jaw, “Hell yeah,” He whispers softly as Mako’s hands are now on Junkrat’s body. Hog grabs the smaller man by the hips, pulling him forward a bit roughly to straddle his lap. He knows the blond has bathed and brushed his teeth recently which is some form of relief all things considered. Thick lips miss slightly and catch the light stubble on Junkrat’s chin, but they’re kissing. It’s the real deal, Rat thinks, they’re kissing.

Junkrat’s kissed before, but it’s always been a job. There’s not ever really been a ‘stop’ option, so he weighs that thought carefully, searching Mako’s face after the kiss. Roadhog looks confused too. Did he read the situation wrong? Did Jamie like it?

Must have, because skinny fingers on his organic hand card through Mako’s hair undoing the ponytail letting the thick locks get caught between his fingers as he pulls Hog’s face up towards his for another kiss. They start kissing and it heats up within a moment and large hands have him pressed against Hog’s belly as he pulls Mako’s head up again and begins kissing and nipping the skin on his neck and jaw to make a mark. This is his, he thinks. Just like his treasure. This is his Hog, and he wanted everyone to know. He strokes Hog’s shoulders as they connect their lips again for more desperate kisses. Hog begins to pull the small man to his side to get Junkrat down on the couch beneath him, and Rat’s heart clenches in his chest. He starts to feel trapped, “No, no, no,” His shrinking in on himself as he gets ready to spring out his limbs and push Hog off. 

But Hog pulls back. There’s a lot of feelings on Hog’s face, but none of them anger or frustration. Ok, maybe a little frustration, but his erection isn’t Junkrat’s responsibility. He makes a note that Junkrat probably doesn’t want to be beneath him which is fine. There’s a little sense of wanting because he wants Junkrat to want him like that eventually. But if eventually is never then that’s fine. Junkrat seems a bit confused which is normal enough. Doesn’t seem to know what he wants. “I can…” Hog is thinking. He wants to make Junkrat feel good. This young guy that makes him laugh and keeps him company. Who makes shitty jokes and threatens to kill him in the dead of the night. He wants to make Junkrat feel good. “I can finger you if you want.” 

Junkrat’s eyes shoot down to those hands. His cheeks kind of heat up. Not that he’s embarrassed at all, it’s just the idea has his clit twitching. His eyes then meet Roadhog’s bulge, “You can put it in if-“

“Nah,” Hog thinks, “I’ll wait on that. Don’t want to scare you again. Sit on the couch.” He pushes the table back so he can sit on the floor.

Junkrat shimmies down his tattered shorts and a thick thread of slick sticks to them until it breaks. He’s wet. Really wet already, and he gulps nervously, “You uh- Ever been with someone like me before?” He wants to know what Hog thinks of him. His parts that don’t…always match. He was patchwork all the way from his limbs to his organic body.

“Doesn’t matter.” Hog stops that line of thought from Rat quickly, because Hog doesn’t really care. Man, woman. Dick. Pussy. It’s all kind of the same to him. Maybe when he was younger or human, he might have had more rigid thoughts on that, but prison had kind of changed him. He took what he could get there. He spread’s Junkrat’s thighs, “You can tell me to stop.” He reminds the blond again, who’s looking at him bewildered.

“Pal, I ain’t gonna tell someone who’s about to get me off to stop. Specially when you’ve got a face like that. Hell, would probably let you do weird shit with me stumps if you wanted at this point.” He shivered in arousal as Hog tongued his own fingers getting them ready. 

Hog snorts in laughter after he pulls them away. “You really are a different sort.”

“It’s all the chemicals.” Junkrat teased, “Had to pass the time somehow.” The line of banter ends with a bit of a gasp as a single finger slips past his meaty outer lips past the delicate folds of his inner ones and into his warm, dripping cunt. “Oh- Fuck….” His legs tremble a bit as Hog begins to push the digit in and out. 

“Yeah?”

“Hells yeah.” Junkrat murmurs and is about to reach down and start jerking off his small cock before Hog’s tongue wraps around the tiny dick. It was…larger than a clit for sure, but not quite as large as the smallest cock he’d sucked. Junkrat’s making small panting noises above him as he begins to lap at the twitchy little thing.

Junkrat falls apart within ten minutes, and by then, Hog’s jaw is aching with a pleasured sense of success. Prosthetic fingers have a tight grip on the couch arm and Rat’s other hand is pressing the large man’s face as hard into his mound as he could (could probably break Hog’s nose like that Mako thinks.)

It’s only after his orgasm that Rat says anything, “Hoggie…” He looks down at the other with soft eyes. Not loving, Hog wouldn’t say that, but soft, affectionate. 

“Yeah?” The big man asks with a smile as he bathes in Rat’s after glow.

Sharp teeth teasing a gold canine answer back with a goofy tired grin, "Yeah.”


	10. Outbursts

They come to the idea that they need to find a crew while spooning soup into their mouths as they lean up against a graffiti painted wall. Rat looks up at the big guy, “Should we, like…put out a notice or somethin’. Open calls. Interview n all that. Can start next week.” They got plenty of dough to stay at the dock for as long as Rat was alive, Hog thinks, so they can take their time. He grunts and nods, slipping down his mask as he finishes eating. He knows Rat is thinking of paper and print notices, but Delta #12 was far enough in the past where that still made some sense. Now it was all about webspace and accessing it. Luckily, he’s partially wired in and has a notice posted not even three minutes after their talk. Not that Rat will understand, the cyborg conversation had already been weird enough. They had started fucking like rabbits the day after they first kissed, and that had made Rat bring up the question, “Wait so like…can your dick vibrate since you’re like a robot?” The whole duality of man thing hadn’t quite been grasped by the blond because he had a nerve connector and robotic parts as well, so in theory, Rat was also a cyborg. “Big deal,” The skinny man had shrugged, “Part computer or whatever. Doesn’t matter. Couldn’t tell lookin’ at yah, and that’s what matters.” That and Hog fucks like a champion and does whatever Rat asks in bed (to an extent) so yeah, the robot thing hadn’t mattered so much. 

They’ve been combing through Todida’s market deck slow enough that Rat had ended up actually buying some things and stealing others: a shoe that fits, new set of shorts; a good arm, some parts for his knee joint; underwear at Hog’s insistence for hygiene, and some weed. Since it was organic, the drug had long been legalized, but it not being a vegetable or fruit, it was expensive since it took resources that could better be utilized feeding the whole goddamn galaxy. “Hey, you want some?” Rat’s tongue for once was absent of slobber and drool as he carefully traced the rim of the paper before rolling the joint. He snapped his fingers and inhaled as the sparks hit the rim of his blunt, “Yeah, Hoggie?” He offered it.

Hog snorted, “I have asthma, you cunt.”

Junkrat grinned, “Ah well, more for me then, ya overgrown motherboard. Wouldn’t want your big sausage fingers dropping the thing anyways.” He was ready to get stoned off his ass.

“Don’t fall too far behind, ya lousy brat.” The giant grumbled, “Still need to go talk to the client about that job you were interested in.”

“Oh, the one where we go kidnap that scientist?” Rat exhaled slowly, “Sounds good. Le’s go.”

Details are details, and Jamie isn’t really paying attention as he lets Hog listen to everything. He got the gist of it, he thinks. They go to some super A tier planet. They go to this university real undercover like and grab the scientist’s wife when she’s on her way home. Take her to the lab and blackmail the scientist to get his key thingy and his project. Kill the wife, take the scientist back to Todida along with the project. Junkrat’s got it. Of course, he doesn’t know what planet or what university or what scientist, but he’s got it down. Pay sounds good too. Valuable an’ all that. Might get him n’ Hog some notoriety too. Nothin’ more valuable than word of mouth when bein’ an outlaw.

“Hey Hoggie, I’m gonna go take a leak real fast.” They’re headed back to the ship with all the shoppin’ and he really can’t wait that long. There’s an alleyway, and he wants to piss now in case when they get back Hog wants to start back up with fuckin’ him until the bed breaks. He giggles to himself as he teeters down the alleyway feeling hazy and warm. Hog is gonna wait at the mouth of the alley until he’s done takin’ a squat. Safe enough. He’s finishing up his piss and zip when he sees something kind of flashy in the garbage at the end he didn’t notice when comin’ down. Fuck does he know a lure when he sees one. Needed to get out of here before a hand reached out of one of the drains on the ground and, “Hey, Ho-” He yelps being hoisted up into one of the air vents up above by a wire round his metal arm and fucking head. 

“Shit!” He hears a voice. Young voice younger than him, “Supposed to just rip off not hoist the guy!” 

“He’s not fuckin’ heavy enough! Wouldn’t yank from the nerve port!” And bam, he’s got a hand on the edge of the air vent pulling himself inside with a scramble. Roaring as he bites down on the kid’s shoulder, the boy drops the mechanized reel that had lifted him. It’s then that he meets the older teen behind him as muscular hands grab him by the neck and starts to put him in a choke hold before Rat elbows him in the ribs and he lets loose. Rat headbutts the younger one. Listening to his nose crack before he can get up and turns.

“The fuck you getting’ away!” He watches as the one that had tried to choke him makes a crawl for it and slides down one of the maintenance tunnels on a ladder. 

He’s down that thing as fast as his peg leg will let him, and when he follows the lead out, he’s chasing after the kid before yanking on his dreads and slamming him to the ground, “Fuck!” 

Rat’s panting, nose and mouth bleeding a bit from the scramble, “Tryin’ to take my arm? What the fuck for? Pawn it?” He spat in the kid’s eyes, “Gonna have to do a lot better than that to steal from Junkrat.”

“Please,” The black boy tries to move his arms, but it’s no use as Junkrat sits on him in all his wiry underweighted glory, “Needed it for one of my brothers.”

Junkrat eyes narrow, “You live on this shipwreck?” He motions to the Todida tunnel around him which probably disappears down into another slum. “You got any skills other than bein’ a fuckin’ shitdick and bein’ terrible at jumpin’ people? I got a spare arm. I’ll trade yeah if you weren’t being a lying son of a bitch.” The one he’d gotten on Oz, but shit, it’d lasted him. 

“Yeah- Yeah, uh, mechanic. Can fix up whatever-”

“Aw fuck you, can’t do anything with a mechanic. Every goddamn Junker in this galaxy is a mechanic. You got any real skills. Good skills.”

“Nah, nothin’ other than that, but I can put you in contact with whoever you want. Get you whatever you want. Know just about everyone on Todida.” The teenager trembles. 

Rat pauses. He laughs, no way, no way. “Know any pilots? Real pilots. Can fly a medium class ship?” He bites his lip as he watches the kid’s face.

Lucio, dressed in a dirty threadbare green shirt, nods enthusiastically, “Yeah, I do.” He swallows, “Lemme up, and I’ll show you.”

Rat’s eyes narrow, “I’ll let you up, but just know.” He shows the kid his teeth, “I’ll rip you limb from limb if you make one wrong move. If it wasn’t for the fact I need something, you’d be dead. Might of killed your buddy when I headbutted him in the nose. Would easily do that to you too.”

Eyes going wide, the teenager nods. He can tell that this guy is more than a little off, “Yeah, okay. Okay. I gotcha. Um.” Rat gets up and lets him up too. “Follow me.” 

They end up winding through alley ways and up make shift ladders and pass square shaped hovels jutting out of walls and staircases. Seemed like just on Delta, people were living wherever people could. It being a bandit station, wasn’t any law enforcement. Might made right here. “Where you takin’ me, kid?” He looked around seeing raw sewage in the walk ways. At least in the desert they’d been able to bury their crap.

“Uh…Just a lil further. Promise.” He pushes on a panel and slides it to the side, “In here.”

Rat looks into the musty dark room, faintly illuminated by a pink light, “After you.” He points with his peg leg, and Lucio nods and goes inside.

“Hey Hanna, I got work for you.” Lucio calls entering through what seemed to be the common space and kitchen area towards a hatch that was open. Beeping and chirping came from down there, “You hear me?”

“Yeah, I’ll be up just after this match!” It’s a pretty voice. Rat can tell already she must be a pretty girl. 

“Girl pilot…” Hmm, he kind of liked it. Liked the idea of someone who must have had to learn on their own from this area. Meant she was real bad or the best there was. No in between with that sorts. Just like him and explosives. 

“Yeah.” A sassy voice comes from down the hatch, “Girl pilot.” It sounds to Lucio likes she paused and is climbing the ladder. She crouches as she comes into the common room although the four foot high ten by eight space isn’t exactly a room. “You got something to say, mutt?”

“Rat, actually.” He corrects her, “Although, isn’t me first time being compared to a dog.” Got called bitch a hell of a lot before he had lost his tits, “Might watch your mouth, though. You want work?”

“You got a ship?” She retorts, “I’ll fly just about anything as long as it pays and Lucio gets to come.”

“Lucio,” Rat tries out the name, “What’s Lucio’s brothers’ name?” The black man laughs nervously as Hanna rolls her eyes. Rat knows that look. Decides to play his hand, “Hmm, and here I thought I was going to be helping some nice kids out. Get ‘em out of the slummers. Help ‘em out just like I got off Delta #12, but if lying is what we’re building this business relationship on, well, ‘fraid I just can’t do business.” Rat looked real solemn and began to make his way out. 

The drama. The acting. All real top caliber stuff, so Hanna, the pretty one goes, “Wait! He lied to you, okay! But! Yeah, it’s hard here. It’s the slums. We’ll just do about anything to get off Todida, okay? We’re trying to get back to Applegate, that’s where we’re from. Got abandoned here after a job went south. Haven’t been able to get work since.” 

“True?”

Lucio looks at him, “Yeah, gospel truth.”

Rat snorts. Like he knows what a ‘gospel’ is, but it didn’t seem like they were lying. “I told your boy here, I’d kill him if he tried to pull something on me. Same to you. I can fly the fuckin’ thing alright, but…need someone who can land the damn thing in one piece. And you-” He looks at Lucio, “You a mechanic…You fix ships?”

“Yeah, and I know a little bit about every job on the ship. Can cook, clean, be the mechanic, be navigator. Whatever you need, Hanna and I just need to get out of here.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed at them, “Alright, no getting ahead of ourselves here. You’re gonna have me bodyguard and business partner in a frenzie. He’s probably beating himself up already about losin’ me just ‘cuz someone decided to not look up.” He grins, “But yeah, back to Vinca port, and y’all can look at the ship. If you like it, if Roadhog likes you, then you can go and get paid.”

Turns out Lucio was a little bit of a jack of all trades. Even knew some legal stuff. Smart kid. Rat liked that, and Hanna seemed to be confident in her stuff as soon as she saw the ship, “Aw, hell. Could fly this ‘lil baby bunny in my sleep.” She coos at the thing.

Hog is sitting at the table drinking tea when they get in. He turns himself casually to look at the three of them, “Fuck!” Rat complained, “You weren’t even lookin’ for me? Could be dead!”

“As soon as I heard you make the two of them scream, figured out it’d only be a matter of time until you got back. Might as well enjoy the silence.” Hog shrugged and closed his book, “Who are these two?”

“New pilot,” He motioned to Hanna, “And this is one of the guys who tried to rip off me arm.” He motioned to Lucio, “He’s gonna be whatever we need him to be. Said he can fix the ship too.”

“Huh,” Hog got up slowly, revealing his full height and size and looked down through his mask inspecting the two. Hanna’s face stayed dead still. Not showing fear, but the lack of emotion meant she was steadying himself. Lucio just laughed nervously. The large pig patted them down. Other than a phaser gun and a few shivs, wasn’t anything on them to worry about. “Alright, I’ll get the contracts ready if you all want to sign. You two are chipped, right?”

Lucio smiles, “Yeah, I mean, who isn’t? Even the poorest of the poor have chips on Todida, can’t do business in cash here.” He looks to Hanna for a moment who has jutted out her bottom lip in thought. She nods a bit.

Hog glances at Rat, who is scratching at his arm, and walks down the hallways to the small office to handle business as the two teens follow. This leaves Rat to himself, scratching his arm, but not his brand like usually, no, no. It’s his damn chip. Thing is under his skin and driving him wild. Felt like a bug crawling around in there. Maybe he could slit the skin where the stiches used to be when Hog isn’t looking. He could probably do it now and be real fast about it. The thing had been bothering him for a week now, but it hadn’t really keyed up until the last few hours. He’d been putting off being miserable about it because business came before ripping your flesh open. 

His mind does that thing where he’s too many places at once, and he just wants to die, die, die. Itchy arm. He’s miserable, all alone finally, and he wants to see blood. Decides to use one of the steak knives from the drawer and slits himself probably way deeper than he needed to and starts digging the thing out. Throws the gross little computer thing on the ground and stomps. Stomps it real good and breaks it. Fulfilling. He laughs as he looks at the pieces, although, a part of him knows Hog’s going to be pissed at him. Weren’t these damn things important or something? He barely ever used the thing. Hog always paid with his chip. Oh yeah, blood. Blood: a lot of it. Needed a towel, kitchen towel. There he goes. Wraps it ‘round his wrist. 

Other than the pain, the itchin’ has stopped and that lil thing in his brain that makes him want to do stupid stuff is gone for at least a minute as he tries to resolve the task at hand. “Mind the blood on the floor.” He says absently to the two as Hog starts to enter the kitchen that seems like it’s for dolls compared to him. 

Blood? He looks down and back at Junkrat’s organic wrist, “God damnit, Rat!” He wants to pick the kid up and strangle him. “You needed that!” Any time he left the kid alone for a minute!

“Was makin’ me itch too much! Blisterin’! Burnin’ under the skin!” Rat tries to explain as Hanna and Lucio are peeking ‘round the corner, “Mind your own business and go get your stuff to move onto the ship. Don’t need to stay any longer since we got you too.” He huffs not needing rubberneckers to his car crash of a brain and its actions. 

The two reluctantly break from the show and walk back to the ladder they came in on. “Rat, you need a chip.” Hog groans.

“Yeah, well then get me another one! That one wasn’t for me. Was broken or something.” He huffs as Hog takes his wrist to look at it.

“You didn’t need to cut that deep.” A frown. They could always get him another chip, but besides for the blisters that he could see around the cut, the gouge was pretty big.

“Don’t need to do a lot of things.” Rat looks him in the eyes, “But sometimes that’s the only way.”

“Could have told me when you started hating it. I’m your bodyguard. Would have found you someone to numb it up right so you won’t scar.” Too late now, though. Not that is mattered. Half of Junkrat was scars, he thought with a sad smile.

Rat looks at him. He’s still feeling that way. Feels bad. Twitchy. Angry like as well, “Stop.” He hisses, pulling his arm back. He wants it to drip. Wants it to hurt. Punishment. Punishment for being so disgusting and pathetic. Having to rely on Hog, always twittering after him like a love sick puppy. “I don’t need you.” His eyes are hard. Heart hard. He means it. He could have kept living on Delta #12. Didn’t need Hog or his fancy Earthen Amber or this ship or anything, “Should have shot you dead in the desert.” Mako doesn’t say anything. He’ll let Junkrat just ride this one out. Let the Rat retreat to the bedroom. Whatever triggered this probably had nothing to do with Lucio and Hanna, he thinks, so it should be resolved by the time they get back. He’ll let Rat hide away until he needs to come out. 

Softly though, the words do hurt to hear. He can't help himself, “You’ll be sorry that you said that later.” 

A laugh. That laugh that makes Roadhog think that Jamison would be just as happy being dead as alive. It echoes through the hall as he drags himself to the bedroom. Echoes through the ship. Echoes through Roadhog. “Fuck you, you don't know me. You think just 'cause you were some tourist through my life for a few days, you know me? I tell you some sad stories every once 'n' a while, and that makes you some fuckin' expert? You’re too cocky always walkin' around like you know everything! Somebody is going to put a bullet in you for it eventually. Even if it’s not me.” He slams the door shut with a shriek and throws himself on the bed.

Heart twinging just a bit from the suddenness of the outburst. He thinks back to the desert. Thinks back to the bear trap and his hook. Thinks about Junkrat screaming at him when he thought he was a slave owner. Thinks about the cannibals. The torture. His mother who gave him a rat for his birthday. How she had traded him for some supplies, and that his life was a fucking miracle because he could have just as easily ended up in a cooking pot as he had ended up living on Delta #12. Nah, Hog thinks; if someone’s gonna kill him, it’s gonna be Junkrat. He’s known that from the start.


	11. Time

Tracer’s mouth opens to scream as she jams her thumb down on the red button of the handle of her metal brief case, but she has forgotten one crucial thing; the damn machine is out of battery. She’d thrown that wasted battery crystal into the hazard waste just earlier that day at the university, but Junkrat, the man knocking her unconscious doesn’t care or know about any of this. She knows, though, who Junkrat is because Mister Junkrat had alerted her earlier that day at exactly one twenty-seven p.m. over her office phone to bring the machine to the industrial park outside of town or they’d kill Emily. “Obviously no cops.” He told her, “We just want your project. Tha’s all we’re really askin’ for. We’re not in the business of muderin’ people right up.” A pause, “Well we are, bu’ tha’s a different matter. Not gonna hurt yer shiela if ya jus’ bring the damn thing.”

Seemed like a rather straight forward contract, she thought, gnawing on her lip. After all, the stupid thing wouldn’t work without its battery. They wouldn’t even know how to go along making the custom batteries for her machine. She should have remembered it was out of battery, she thought as she went limp in the lanky man’s arms. That had been stupid of her to push the red button like that would fix all of her life’s problems. 

She wakes up remarkably next to Emily which isn’t really all that remarkable because almost daily she wakes up next to her girlfriend unless the redhead had gotten up to go make breakfast. “Hey Lena,” A hand is gentle stroking her hair, checking her pupils and other doctor-y stuff. That’s what Emily does, she thinks with a smile ‘doctor-y stuff’, but hey, Lena does doctor-y stuff too. Just a PhD instead of M.D. “Hey there, glad you’re awake. Do you know what happened?” Emily’s got the voice of an angel, and Lena thinks (she’s been doing a lot of that lately), that she’s glad her girlfriend isn’t dead which means part of the contract has been fulfilled. 

After a short rundown of their two different but rather similar experiences of being yanked out of their rather normal daily lives, a towering monster of a human stands before them in their reasonable sized room which must have been a cabin room, judging on the size of the ship as they walk towards the Captain’s office. For the time being, Emily thinks, we can’t fight. There’s no way we can turn this thing around. We’ll just have to radio for help or wait until we land. There’s just no way, but also, honestly, who is she kidding? She doesn’t really know jackshit about space. She’d never been off world before. Lena popped off world basically every other weekend, but she doubted that the short brown haired woman knows what to do either.

Mister Junkrat- “Captain,” He corrects, “I’m the boss ‘n’ all the likes, so that’s how it goes.” Ah Captain, of course.

“What the fuck do you want?” Lena spits out, suddenly bubbling with all the rage she’s been squishing down for the last twelve hours. She’d been logically just walking through this in a surreal haze. As if this weren’t her life. This isn’t her life, she knows this. Her life is the university, and their apartment, and their adoption papers that are going to be confirmed any day now. Her life is not being called at work having her girlfriend held hostage, being knocked out, and sitting down to meet with a fucking space bandit. But it is, so she glares at him with enough venom to make a cobra reconsider, “Do you even know what this does?” She asked, motioning to the brief case on the table that had been opened. The wires and empty battery compartment are the first thing visible, but the computer and its clock have been gently jolted from their place to be inspected.

“Well,” He begins thoughtfully, “I didn’t at first, but I think I got a real grasp on what you’re doin’ here. Real nice work. Don’t know what the guy who hired us wants with it, but can’t be nothin’ real good. Not my problem though.”

“Could be, though.” Emily states, “Could be if he turns back the clock and wrecks whatever planet you came from or blasts the universe into a war two hundred years ago. Could go back further than that. Back to before the galactic empire, when it was just Earth. Restart everything. Just like that.” A pause, “Or forward even. Could find out that you reconsidered your contract, and rewrites time and you five years from now is dead and you don’t even know it yet because he just popped in and out.”

The dirty blond is weighing that because gee whiz, time travel is a little bit of a handful. Not that the damn thing is that powerful, but Lena keeps that to herself. Her device can only (she says only like it’s not rewriting the laws of nature) can pause time, and maybe move backwards one hundred years max. It gets unstable after that. It gets unstable after pausing time for longer than a minute. You start to fray at the edges. Mind unraveling around you. Tracer knows a bit about that. Tracer is the other her, but Lena doesn’t want to think much about the parallel version of herself who has told her terrible horrible things about the reality she lives in.

“Doesn’t work though.” Junkrat the space bandit says, “Why worry about it if it doesn’t work?”

Lena bites her lip. She’s not used to negotiating with terrorists, “It’s just out of battery and…I clearly won’t keep my mouth shut if Emily is in danger.” That’s really it. She wants Emily in one piece. Lena could probably hold out for a lifetime of torture (she hopes), but God, if someone hurt Emily… “So your boss, do you want him to have it or you? We’ll give it to you. Just let us go. You can have it. Only one in the universe.” Well, that and the other one in development in the lab. She could just go back and rewrite this day, but they have to live through it first. That’s the key.

Junkrat looks at the big man in the pig mask. Raises his brows, flabbergasted at the deal. He’s used to people putting up more of a fight, “Rioght, well then.” A dirty hand with nails bitten down to the quick is extended for them to shake, “To business, you’re guests now I suppose. Limited guests, can’t have ya raisin’ alarms and all until we drop ya off and get the hell out of dodge.”

It’s Emily who shakes his hand. Once, twice, and then let’s go, “Just for the sake of conversation, what are you going to use it for?” Fuck Emily! Lena keeps her mouth shut. Now was not the time to be the humanitarian!

The blond scrunches up in thought. A strange man, clearly not….all there. Lena can see Emily working her patient analysis check list to figure him out. Doesn’t realize that Hog’s not just a strong man. He’s watching behind those smoked lenses, watching her work too. “’Suppose…maybe to keep people from livin’ on Delta #12, tha’s where I’m from.” Which from a historical and anthropological standpoint explains an encyclopedia of information to Lena. 

“God damn,” The words slip out, and she tries to swallow them back, but it’s too late. She has to say something else, so she finished with, “That’d be hard.”

A switch blade of tone makes her shiver, remember that this man could still kill them, “Not looking for pity, mate.” Hog still hasn’t said a word. It unsettles her even more. “Lucio will take care of yeh. Feed ya n all that. He’s waitin’ outside the door. Would recommend being nice to him since he’s cookin’ your food.” Lena doesn’t know what that means. Captain Junkrat doesn’t seem to be one for bluffing or answers. He shooed them away. Hog follows them to the door and opens it for the two women. He looms over and looks down at them, to remind them just what will happen if they take Junkrat’s kindness for granted. The door closes with the smallest of clicks, and the blond is scratching at his brands in thought.

Wishes won’t make Junkrat stop scratching the brand, but Hog wishes for it. The scratching is just making the scars worse and angrier, but Roadhog supposes he understands. Junkrat’s mood has settled out. He’s back to giggling after business is done, and he’s giving Hog dinner plate sized eyes, “Oi, fuckin’ time travel, Hoggie! I’s better than I damn well thought! Thought it was like some EMP or the likes that could transmit globally, but time travel.”

“Could use it,” Hog grunts, “For the Terrafor.”

“I- Uh- Missed the memo on that one, mate. Catch me up again.” Junkrat had been at the meeting, leading it actually, with Hannah and Lucio listening attentively. Hog had drawn up a galactic map of the production plants for Terrafor, one of them now being on his old home planet, and he wanted to as Jamie succinctly put it, “Bomb the over loving hell out of them and then make the political statement of the millennia.” Which in turn would end Hannah and Lucio’s contract, they could have the ship and a full tank of fuel, and Junkrat and Roadhog would ride off onto whatever adventure next suited their fancy. Of course it wasn’t that simple due to Fawkes Corporation holdings having extensive security, and getting on and off world would be…

Nothing is ever that simples, Hog thinks. Not his job for Howard Fawkes, not his job with Jamie. Not even his relationship with Jamie is simple. The kid had been slingshotting between mania and violent outbursts. Wasn’t sleeping in the bed with Hog anymore, so they hadn’t had any more of those warm talks which had made Mako feel like he was actually getting somewhere for once with Junkrat. Like they could be something. This had seemed to pull him out of that fugue state. A nice break back to the refreshing (although somewhat annoying) part of Jamie’s faceted personality. But that was Junkrat. He was a diamond with all the goddamn facets he had. In thought though, it made sense on why he was as complex as the designs he made for his tools and bombs. Nothing could be simple if it had been put under pressure and forged in the fires of Oz.

Junkrat’s listening to him repeat the plan, well, the goal really, again. All they’ve got is a concept of destruction, a location of an abandoned military satellite for their radio jacking, and a map of locations they wanted to raise to the ground first. He’s had less before. The blond gave him a toothy smile as he adds a little something on. Starts to flesh out plans a bit more with that spark of excitement in his eyes. Hog smiles back behind his mask because Junkrat seems genuinely excited about this. The first thing that’s truly lifted his spirits since they’d left Todida, “Hey,” Long lanky arms are wrapping around his middle pulling him softly from his inner monologue, “Might not be able to time travel just yet, but uh, I know a good way to speed it up if you want.” Heart fluttering a little bit at the way the throaty purr catches the words, Hog hums in agreement, moving to touch the other back.

Jamison’s eyes glisten as he’s getting fucked over the metal desk because from this position he can see that sky he had lusted after for so many years, but even if Junkrat’s a shitty star that twinkles off key with all the rest of humanity, at least the center of his universe is stable. Hog’s as reliable as gravity; that is, he’s a law of constant. Kind of a deep thought for someone getting fucked, but he knows his mind has never really been something for conventions.

~o~

After living on Earth for so long, even Amber thinks Todida is disgusting, so she can only imagine how Amelie feels with her boots ankle deep in sewage at some points as they track down the last few purchases from Mako’s chip. They’ve got several food and drink purchases, but that doesn’t mean shit if Rat isn’t with him. “Jamison,” Amber holds up the only picture they’ve got: grainy color security footage of them fleeing the scene from burning down the mansion (still at large for questioning). “Have you seen this man Jamison ‘Junkrat’?” The bar tender is looking at it and shrugs. Amber scoffs, begins to reach into her pocket for something, but when she looks up, Amelie’s got a gun to the man’s head.

“Answer the question.” Her finger is ready to pull the trigger. 

The man flinches a bit, going stiff under Amelie’s steely grip, “Yes! Yes! I saw him two or three weeks ago with the fat man! He was here talking to a couple of guys trying to hook up, I think!” He yelps, “But he took off, haven’t seen him since. He only came in twice. Think the night before they left was…two weeks ago because they bought a couple rounds for their new crew members. Only remember it all because the kid was so fuckin’ loud. Almost had to kick him out.” And that was saying something, this was a bar. That and the big pig man was unforgettable. That mask was haunting.

“Thanks,” Amelie said, voice hinted with a smile as she pulled the trigger.

Amber’s training had braced her for this. Widowmakers left no men alive unless they had to for the further advancement of the organization. The red spray along the wall was no less daunting for the younger member, but Amelie simply heaved a sigh of annoyance as she gently tapped the man’s cooling body after he had hit the floor. The few patrons in the bar minded their own business, eyes on the two women as they left, but before the door to the establishment shut three more shots rang out killing the three sets of nosy eyes.

“Good job, Amber.” Amelie smiled, this time it wasn’t a tease though. She genuinely was proud of her new sister. A dog barked quietly in the street as they walked to another one of the shops Hog had bought from. It felt good to start getting some tangible evidence from this paper trail. 

“Hey Amelie,” The blonde began slowly, not quite sure if she wanted her question answered, “How did you become a Widowmaker?”

“Oh well…” The black haired woman paused, looking to the sky as if to see the blue moon of Andromeda above her. Thinking back to Terra 2 with affection, she begins to get lost in the past. Lost in feelings she hadn’t acknowledged since ten years ago. Softly, “That’s a long story.” Amber thinks after a few moments of silence that it’s time to change the subject, but Amelie Fawkes (if that is her real name) is ever the surprise, “I suppose, though, we have all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> Shoot me a message if you have any questions B)


End file.
